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THE LIGHT OF ASIA 



THE GREAT RENUNCIATION 

(MAHABHINISHKRAMANA) 

BEING 

THE LIFE AND TEACHING OF GAUTAMA 

Prince of India and Founder of Buddhism 
(AS TOLD IN VERSE BY AN INDIAN BUDDHIST 



BY 



SIR EDWIN ARp,*^-L||y^ 

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Stt?fp'.t w ^^ 



NEW YORK: 46 East 14TH Street 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 

BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 



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Copyright, 1S94 
By T. Y. CROWELL & CO. 



PRESS OF 
BOSTON, U.S.A. 



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t^iB T?ofume 

IS DUTIFULLY INSCRIBED TO 

THE SOVEREIGN, GRAND MASTER, AND 
COMPANIONS 

OF 

Wi)z iHost fealteti (©rticr of i\)z Star of Entifa 

BY THE AUTHOR 



PREFACE 



In the following Poem I have sought, by the 
medium of an imaginary Buddhist votary, to de- 
pict the life and character and indicate the phi- 
losophy of that noble hero and reformer, Prince 
Gautama of India, the founder of Buddhism. 

A generation ago little or nothing was known 
in Europe of this great faith of Asia, which had 
nevertheless existed during twenty-four centuries, 
and at this day surpasses in the number of its 
followers and the area of its prevalence any other 
form of creed. Four hundred and seventy mill- 
ions of our race hve and die in the tenets of 
Gautama ; and the spiritual dominions of this 
ancient teacher extend, at the present time, from 
Nepaul and Ceylon over the whole Eastern 
Peninsula to China, Japan, Thibet, Central Asia, 
Siberia, and even Swedish Lapland. India itself 
might fairly be included in this magnificent Em- 

(v) 



vi PREFACE. 

pire of Belief; for though the profession of Bud- 
dhism has for the most part passed away from 
the land of its birth, the mark of Gautama's 
sublime teaching is stamped ineffaceably upon 
modern Brahmanism, and the most characteristic 
habits and convictions of the Hindus are clearly 
due to the benign influence of Buddha's pre- 
cepts. More than a third of mankind, therefore, 
owe their moral and reHgious ideas to this illus- 
trious prince ; whose personality, though im- 
perfectly revealed in the existing sources of 
information, cannot but appear the highest, 
gentlest, holiest, and most beneficent, with one 
exception, in the history of Thought. Discord- 
ant in frequent particulars, and sorely overlaid 
by corruptions, inventions, and misconceptions, 
the Buddhistical books yet agree in the one 
point of recording nothing — no single act or 
word — which mars the perfect purity and ten- 
derness of this Indian teacher, who united the 
truest princely qualities with the intellect of a 
sage and the passionate devotion of a martyr. 
Even M. Barth^lemy St. Hilaire, totally mis- 
judging as he does many points of Buddhism, is 



PREFACE. vii 

well cited by Professor Max Mliller as saying of 
Prince Siddartha : — ^^ Sa vie n'a point de tache. 
Son constant heroisme egale sa conviction ; et si 
la theorie qu'il pr^conise est fausse, les exemples 
personnels qu'il donne sont irreprochables. II 
est le modele acheve de toutes les vertus qu'il 
preche ; son abnegation, sa charity, son inalte- 
rable douceur ne se dementent point un seul 
instant. ... II prepare silencieusement sa doc- 
trine par six annees de retraite et de meditation ; 
il la propage par la seule puissance de la parole 
et de la persuasion pendant plus d'un demi- 
siecle, et quand il meurt entre les bras de ses 
disciples, c'est avec la serenite d'un sage qui a 
pratique le bien toute sa vie, et qui est assure 
d'avoir trouve le vrai." To Gautama has con- 
sequently been granted this stupendous conquest 
of humanity ; and — though he discountenanced 
ritual and declared himself, even when on the 
threshold of Nirvana, to be only what all other 
men might become — the love and gratitude of 
Asia, disobeying his mandate, have given him 
fervent worship. Forests of flowers are daily laid 
upon his stainless shrines, and countless millions 



viii . PREFACE. 

of lips daily repeat the formula, ^' I take refuge 
in Buddha ! " 

The Buddha of this poem — if, as need not be 
doubted, he really existed — was born on the 
borders of Nepaul about 620 B.C., and died 
about 543 B.C. at Kusinagara in Oudh. In point 
of age, therefore, most other creeds are youthful 
compared with this venerable religion, which has 
in it the eternity of a universal hope, the immor- 
tality of a boundless love, an indestructible ele- 
ment of faith in final good, and the proudest 
assertion ever made of human freedom. The ex- 
travagances which disfigure the record and prac- 
tice of Buddhism are to be referred to that 
inevitable degradation which priesthoods always 
inflict upon great ideas committed to their 
charge. The power and sublimity of Gautama's 
original doctrines should be estimated by their 
influence, not by their interpreters ; nor by that 
innocent but lazy and ceremonious church which 
has arisen on the foundations of the Buddhistic 
Brotherhood or '' Sangha." 

I have put my poem into a Buddhist's mouth, 
because, to appreciate the spirit of Asiatic 



PREFACE. ix 

thoughts, they should be regarded from the 
Oriental point of view ; and neither the miracles 
which consecrate this record, nor the philosophy 
which it embodies, could have been otherwise so 
naturally reproduced. The doctrine of Transmi- 
gration, for instance, — startling to modern minds, 
— was established and thoroughly accepted by 
the Hindus of Buddha's time ; that period when 
Jerusalem was being taken by Nebuchadnezzar, 
when Nineveh was falling to the Medes, and 
Marseilles was founded by the Phoc3eans. The 
exposition here offered of so antique a system is 
of necessity incomplete, and — in obedience to 
the laws of poetic art — passes rapidly by many 
matters philosophically most important, as well 
as over the long ministry of Gautama. • But my 
purpose has been obtained if any just conception 
be here conveyed of the lofty character of this 
noble prince, and of the general purport of his 
doctrines. As to these latter there has arisen pro- 
digious controversy among the erudite, who will 
be aware that I have taken the imperfect Bud- 
dhistic citations much as they stand in Spence 
Hardy's work, and have also modified more than 



X . PREFACE. 

one passage in the received narratives. The 
views, however, here indicated of ^^ Nirvana," 
^'Dharma/' ^^ Karma," and the other chief feat- 
ures of Buddhism, are at least the fruits of con- 
siderable study, and also of a firm conviction that 
a third of mankind would never have been 
brought to believe in blank abstractions, or in 
Nothingness as the issue and crown of Being. 

Finally, in reverence to the illustrious Promul- 
gator of this ^' Light of Asia," and in homage to 
the many eminent scholars who have devoted 
noble labors to his memory, for which both re- 
pose and ability are wanting to me, I beg that 
the shortcomings of my too-hurried study may be 
forgiven. It has been composed in the brief in- 
tervals of days without leisure, but is inspired by 
an abiding desire to aid in the better mutual 
knowledge of East and West. The time may 
come, I hope, when this book and my ^* Indian 
Song of Songs," and^^ Indian Idylls," will preserve 
the memory of one who loved India and the In- 
dian peoples. 

EDWIN x\RNOLD, C.S.I. 

London, August, 1SS4. 



BOOK THE FIRST. 



(I) 



BOOK THE FIRST, 



The Scripture of the Savior of the World, 
Lord Bitddha — Prince Sidddrtha styled on earth — 
In earth and Heavois and Hells Incomparable, 
All-honored, Wisest, Best, most Pitiftd', 
The Teacher of Nirvana and the Law. 

Thus came he to be born again for men. 

Below the highest sphere four Regents sit 

Who rule our world : and under them are zones 

Nearer, but high, where saintliest spirits dead 

Wait thrice ten thousand years, then live again ; 

And on Lord Buddha, waiting in that sky, 

Came for our sakes the five sure signs of birth. 

So that the Devas knew the signs, and said :— 

'* Buddha will go again to help the World." 

" Yea ! *' spake He, " now I go to help the W^orld 

(3) 



vi PREFACE. 

pire of Belief; for though the profession of Bud- 
dhism has for the most part passed away from 
the land of its birth, the mark of Gautama's 
subhme teaching is stamped ineffaceably upon 
modern Brahmanism, and the most characteristic 
habits and convictions of the Hindus are clearly 
due to the benign influence of Buddha's pre- 
cepts. More than a third of mankind, therefore, 
owe their moral and rehgious ideas to this illus- 
trious prince ; whose personality, though im- 
perfectly revealed in the existing sources of 
information, cannot but appear the highest, 
gentlest, holiest, and most beneficent, with one 
exception, in the history of Thought. Discord- 
ant in frequent particulars, and sorely overlaid 
by corruptions, inventions, and misconceptions, 
the Buddhistical books yet agree in the one 
point of recording nothing — no single act or 
word — which mars the perfect purity and ten- 
derness of this Indian teacher, who united the 
truest princely qualities with the intellect of a 
sage and the passionate devotion of a martyr. 
Even M. Barth^lemy St. Hilaire, totally mis- 
judging as he does many points of Buddhism, is 



PREFACE. vii 

well cited by Professor Max Miiller as saying of 
Prince Siddartha : — ^^ Sa vie n'a point de tache. 
Son constant heroisme egale sa conviction ; et si 
la theorie qu'il pr^conise est fausse, les exemples 
personnels qu'il donne sont irreprochables. II 
est le modele acheve de toutes les vertus qu'il 
preche ; son abnegation, sa charity, son inalte- 
rable douceur ne se dementent point un seul 
instant. ... II prepare silencieusement sa doc- 
trine par six annees de retraite et de meditation ; 
il la propage par la seule puissance de la parole 
et de la persuasion pendant plus d'un demi- 
siecle, et quand il meurt entre les bras de ses 
disciples, c'est avec la serenite d'un sage qui a 
pratique le bien toute sa vie, et qui est assure 
d' avoir trouve le vrai." To Gautama has con- 
sequently been granted this stupendous conquest 
of humanity ; and — though he discountenanced 
ritual and declared himself, even when on the 
threshold of Nirvana, to be only what all other 
men might become — the love and gratitude of 
Asia, disobeying his mandate, have given him 
fervent worship. Forests of flowers are daily laid 
upon his stainless shrines, and countless millions 



viii PREFACE. 

of lips daily repeat the formula, ^^ I take refuge 
in Buddha ! " 

The Buddha of this poem — if, as need not be 
doubted, he really existed — was born on the 
borders of Nepaul about 620 B.C., and died 
about 543 B.C. at Kusinagara in Oudh. In point 
of age, therefore, most other creeds are youthful 
compared with this venerable religion, which has 
in it the eternity of a universal hope, the immor- 
tality of a boundless love, an indestructible ele- 
ment of faith in final good, and the proudest 
assertion ever made of human freedom. The ex- 
travagances which disfigure the record and prac- 
tice of Buddhism are to be referred to that 
inevitable degradation which priesthoods always 
inflict upon great ideas committed to their 
charge. The power and sublimity of Gautama's 
original doctrines should be estimated by their 
influence, not by their interpreters ; nor by that 
innocent but lazy and ceremonious church which 
has arisen on the foundations of the Buddhistic 
Brotherhood or '^ Sangha." 

I have put my poem into a Buddhist's mouth, 
because, to appreciate the spirit of Asiatic 



PREFACE. ix 

thoughts, they should be regarded from the 
Oriental point of view ; and neither the miracles 
which consecrate this record, nor the philosophy 
which it embodies, could have been otherwise so 
naturally reproduced. The doctrine of Transmi- 
gration, for instance, — startling to modern minds, 
— was established and thoroughly accepted by 
the Hindus of Buddha's time ; that period when 
Jerusalem was being taken by Nebuchadnezzar, 
when Nineveh was falling to the Medes, and 
Marseilles was founded by the Phocaeans. The 
exposition here offered of so antique a system is 
of necessity incomplete, and — in obedience to 
the laws of poetic art — passes rapidly by many 
matters philosophically most important, as well 
as over the long ministry of Gautama. ■ But my 
purpose has been obtained if any just conception 
be here conveyed of the lofty character of this 
noble prince, and of the general purport of his 
doctrines. As to these latter there has arisen pro- 
digious controversy among the erudite, who will 
be aware that I have taken the imperfect Bud- 
dhistic citations much as they stand in vSpence 
Hardy's work, and have also modified more than 



X PREFACE. 

one passage in the received narratives. The 
views, however, here indicated of '' Nirvana/' 
^^Dharma," "Karma," and the other chief feat- 
ures of Buddhism, are at least the fruits of con- 
siderable study, and also of a firm conviction that 
a third of mankind would never have been 
brought to believe in blank abstractions, or in 
Nothingness as the issue and crown of Being. 

Finally, in reverence to the illustrious Promul- 
gator of this " Light of Asia," and in homage to 
the many eminent scholars who have devoted 
noble labors to his memory, for which both re- 
pose and ability are wanting to me, I beg that 
the shortcomings of my too-hurried study may be 
forgiven. It has been composed in the brief in- 
tervals of days without leisure, but is inspired by 
an abiding desire to aid in the better mutual 
knowledge of East and West. The time may 
come, I hope, when this book and my " Indian 
Song of Songs," and " Indian Idylls," will preserve 
the memory of one who loved India and the In- 
dian peoples. 

EDWIN ARNOLD, C.S.I. 

London, August, 1SS4. 



BOOK THE FIRST. 



(I) 



BOOK THE FIRST, 



The Scripture of the Savior of the Worlds 
Lord Buddha — Prince Sidddrtha styled on earth — 
/;/ earth and Heavens and Hells Incomparable^ 
All-honored, Wisest, Best, most Pitiful; 
The Teacher of Nirvana and the Law. 

Thus came he to be born again for men. 

Below the highest sphere four Regents sit 

Who rule our world ; and under them are zones 

Nearer, but high, where saintliest spirits dead 

Wait thrice ten thousand years, then live again ; 

And on Lord Buddha, waiting in that sky, 

Came for our sakes the five sure signs of birth. 

So that the Devas knew^ the signs, and said : — 

" Buddha will go again to help the World." 

"Yea!'' spake He, "now I go to help the W^orld 

(3) 



4 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

This last of many times ; for birth and death 
End hence for me and those who learn my Law. 
I will go down among the Sakyas, 
Under the southward snows of Himalay, 
Where pious people live and a just King." 

That night the wife of King Suddhodana, 
Maya the Queen, asleep beside her Lord, 
Dreamed a strange dream ; dreamed that a star 

from heaven — 
Splendid, six-rayed, in color rosy-pearl. 
Whereof the token w^as an Elephant 
Six-tusked, and white as milk of Kamadhuk — 
Shot through the void ; and, shining into her, 
Entered her womb upon the right. Awaked, 
Bliss beyond mortal mother's filled her breast. 
And over half the earth a lovely light 
Forewent the morn. The strong hills shook ; the 

waves 
Sank lulled ; all flowers that blow by day came forth 
As Hwere high noon ; down to the farthest hells 
Passed the Queen's joy, as when warm sunshine 

thrills 
Wood-glooms to gold, and into all the deeps 



BOOK THE FIRST, 5 

A tender whisper pierced. "Oh ye,*' it said, 
" The dead that are to Hve, the Hve who die, 
Uprise, and hear, and hope ! Buddha is come ! " 
Whereat in Limbos numberless much peace 
Spread, and the world's heart throbbed, and a 

wind blew 
With unknown freshness over lands and seas. 
And when the morning dawned, and this was told, 
The gray dream-readers said : ^ " The dream is 

good ! 
The Crab is in conjunction with the Sun ; 
The Queen shall bear a boy, a holy child 
Of w^ondrous wisdom, profiting all flesh. 
Who shall deliver men from ignorance. 
Or rule the world, if he will deign to rule/'' 

In this wise was the holy Buddha born. 

Queen Maya stood at noon, her days fulfilled, 
Under a Palsa in the Palace-grounds, 
A stately trunk, straight as a temple-shaft, 
With crown of glossy leaves and fragrant blooms ; 
And, knowing the time come — for all things 
knew — 



6 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

The conscious tree bent down its bows to make 
A bower about Queen Mayans majesty ; 
And Earth put forth a thousand sudden flowers 
To spread a couch; wdiile, ready for the bath. 
The rock hard by gave out a hmpid stream 
Of crystal flow. So brought she forth her child 
Pangless — he having on his perfect form 
The marks, thirty and two, of blessed birth ; 
Of which the great news to the Palace came. 
But when they brought the painted palanquin 
To fetch him home, the bearers of the poles 
Were the four Regents of the Earth, come down 
From Mount Sumeru — they who write men's deeds 
On brazen plates — the Angel of the East, 
Whose hosts are clad in silver robes, and bear 
Targets of pearl : the Angel of the South, 
Whose horsemen, the Kumbhandas, ride blue 

steeds, 
With sapphire shields : the Angel of the West, 
By N^gas followed, riding steeds blood-red, 
With coral shields : the Angel of the North, 
Environed by his Yakshas, all in gold, 
On yellow horses, bearing shields of gold. 
These, with their pomp invisible, came down 



BOOK THE FIRST. 7 

And took the poles, in cast and outward garb 
Like bearers, yet most mighty gods ; and gods 
Walked free with men that day, though men knew 

not : 
For Heaven was filled with gladness for Earth's 

sake. 
Knowing Lord Buddha thus was come again. 

But King Suddhodana wist not of this ; 
The portents troubled, till his dream-readers 
Augured a Prince of earthly dominance, 
A Chakravartin, such as rise to rule 
Once in each thousand years ; seven gifts he 

has — 
The Chakra-ratna, disc divine ; the gem ; 
The horse, the Aswa-ratna, that proud steed 
Which tramps the clouds : a snow-white elephant, 
The Hasti-ratna, born to bear his King ; 
The crafty Minister, the General 
Unconquered, and the wife of peerless grace, 
The Istri-ratna, lovelier than the Dawn. 
For w^iich gifts looking with this wondrous boy, 
The King gave order that his town should keep 
High festival ; therefore the ways w^ere swept. 



8 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Rose-odors sprinkled in the street, th^ trees 
Were hung with lamps and flags, while merry 

crowds 
Gaped on the sword-players and posturers. 
The jugglers, charmers, swingers, rope-walkers. 
The nautch-girls in their spangled skirts, and bells 
That chime light laughter round their restless 

feet ; 
The masquers wrapped in skins of bear and deer, 
The tiger-tamers, wrestlers, quail-fighters, 
Beaters of drum and twanglers of the wire, 
Who made the people happy by command. 
Moreover, from afar came merchant-men, 
Bringing, on tidings of this birth, rich gifts 
In golden trays; goat-shawls, and nard, and jade, 
Turkises, "evening-sky'^ tint, woven webs — 
So fine twelve folds hide not a modest face — 
Waist-cloths sewn thick with pearls, and sandal- 
wood ; 
Homage from tribute cities ; so they called 
Their Prince Savarthasiddh, " All-Prospering," 
Briefer, Siddartha. 

^Mongst the strangers came 
A gray-haired saint, Asita, one whose ears, 



BOOK THE FIRST. 9 

Long closed to earthly things, caught heavenly 

sounds, 
And heard at prayer beneath his peepul-tree 
The Devas singing songs at Buddha's birtli. 
Wondrous in lore he was by age and fasts ; 
Him, drawing nigh, seeming so reverend. 
The King saluted, and Queen Maya made 
To lay her babe before such holy feet ; 
But when he saw the Prince the old man cried 
"Ah, Queen, not sol" and thereupon he touched 
Eight times the dust, laid his waste visage there, 
Saying : — " O Babe ! I worship I Thou art He ! 
I see the rosy light, the foot-sole marks, 
The soft curled tendril of the Swastika, 
The sacred primal signs thirty and two. 
The eighty lesser tokens. Thou art Buddh, 
And thou wilt preach the Law and save all flesh 
Who learn the Law, though I shall never hear, 
Dying too soon, who lately longed to die ; 
Howbeit I have seen Thee. Know, O King! 
This is that Blossom on our human tree 
Which opens once in many myriad years — 
But opened, fills the world with Wisdom's scent 
And Love's dropped honey ; from thy royal root 



lO THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

A Heavenly Lotus springs: Ah, happy House! 

Yet not all-happy, for a sword must pierce 

Thy bowels for this boy — whilst thou, sweet 

Queen ! 
Dear to all gods and men for this great birth, 
Henceforth art grown too sacred for more woe ; 
And life is woe, therefore in seven days 
Painless thou shalt attain the close of pain.'" 

Which fell : for on the seventh evening 
Queen Maya smiling slept, and waked no more, 
Passing content to Trayastrinshas-Heaven, 
Where countless Devas worship her, and wait 
Attendant on that radiant Motherhead. 
But for the Babe they found a foster-nurse, 
Princess Mah^prajapati — her breast 
Nourished with noble milk the lips of Him 
Whose lips comfort the worlds. 

When th' eighth year passed. 
The careful King bethought to teach his son 
All that a Prince should learn, for still he shunned 
The too vast presage of those miracles, 
The glories and the suiTerings of a Buddh. 
So, in full council of his Ministers, 



BOOK THE FIRST. II 

"Who is the wisest man, great sirs," he asked, 
" To teach my Prince that which a Prince should 

know?" 
Whereto gave answer each with instant voice : — 
" King I Viswamitra is the wisest one, 
The farthest-seen in Scriptures, and the best 
In learning, and the manual arts, and all." 
Thus Viswamitra came and heard commands ; 
And, on a day found fortunate, the Prince 
Took up his slate of ox-red sandal wood 
All beautified by gems around the rim. 
And sprinkled smooth with dust of emery. 
These took he, and his writing-stick, and stood 
With eyes bent down before the Sage, who said: — 
''Child, write this Scripture," speaking slow the 

verse 
'-'- GdyatrV named, which only High-born hear: — 

0)n , tatsaviUtrvarenya in 
Bhargo devasya dhhnaJii 
Dhiyo yo na prachodaydt. 

" Acharya, I write," meekly replied 

The Prince, and quickly on the dust he drew — 



12 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Not in one script, but many characters — 

The sacred verse : Nagri and Dakshin, Ni, 

Mangal, Parusha, Yava, Tirthi, Uk, 

Darad, Sikhyani, Mana, Madhyachar, 

The pictured writings and the speech of signs, 

Tokens of cave men and the sea-peoples. 

Of those who worship snakes beneath the earth, 

And those who flame adore and the sun's orb, 

The Magians and the dwellers on the mounds ; 

Of all the nations all strange scripts he traced 

One after other with his writing-stick, 

Reading the master's verse in every tongue ; 

And Visw^amitra said: — "It is enough, 

Let us to numbers. 

After me repeat 
Your numeration till we reach the Lakh, 
One, two, three, four, to ten, and then by tens 
To hundreds, thousands/' After him the child 
Named digits, decads, centuries ; nor paused. 
The round lakh reached, but softly murmured on : - 
"Then comes the koti, nahut, ninnahut, 
Khamba, viskhamba, abab, attata, 
To kumuds, gundhikas, and utpalas, 
By pundarikas unto padumas, 



BOOK rilE FIRST. I 3 

Which last is how you count the utmost grains 

Of Hastagiri ground to finest dust ; 

But beyond that a numeration is, 

The Katha, used to note the stars of night ; 

The Koti- Katha, for the ocean drops ; 

Ingga, the calcukis of circulars; 

Sarvanikchepa, by the which you deal 

With all the sands of Gunga, till we come 

To Antah-Kalpas, where the unit is 

The sands of ten crore Gungas. If one seeks 

More comprehensive scale, th' arithmic mounts 

By the Asankya, which is the tale 

Of all the drops that in ten thousand years 

Would fall on all the worlds by daily rain ; 

Thence unto Maha-Kalpas, by the which 

The Gods compute their future and their past." 

" 'Tis good," the sage rejoined. "Most noble 
Prince, 
If these thou know'st, needs it that I should teach 
The mensuration of the lineal? '^ 
Humbly the boy replied : — • ' Acharya ! 
Be pleased to hear me. Paramanus ten 
A parasukshma make ; ten of those build 



14 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

The trasarene, and seven trasarenes 
One mote's-length floating in the beam, seven motes 
The whisker-point of mouse, and ten of these 
One Hkhya ; likhyas ten a yuka, ten ~^ 

Yukas a heart of barley, which is held 
Seven times a wasp-waist ; so unto the grain 
Of mung and mustard and the barley-corn, 
Whereof ten give the finger-joint, twelve joints 
The span, wherefrom we reach the cubit, staff. 
Bow-length, lance-length ; while twenty lengths of 

lance 
Mete what is named a ' breath,' which is to say 
Such space as man may stride with lungs once 

filled, 
Whereof a gow is forty, four times that 
A yojana ; and, Master ! if it please, 
I shall recite how many sun-motes lie 
From end to end within a yojana/' 
Thereat, with instant skill, the little Prince 
Pronounced the total of the atoms true. 
But Viswamitra heard it on his face 
Prostrate before the boy; "For thou,'' he cried, 
"Art Teacher of thy teachers — thou, not I, 
Art Guru. Oh, I worship thee, sweet Prince ! 



BOOK THE FIRST. I 5 

That comest to my school only to show 

Thou knowest all without the books, and know'st 

Fair reverence besides." 

Which reverence 
Lord Buddha kept to all his schoolmasters, 
Albeit beyond their learning taught ; in speech 
Right gentle, yet so wise ; princely of mien, 
Yet softly-mannered : modest, deferent. 
And tender-hearted, though of fearless blood ; 
No bolder horseman in the youthful band 
E'er rode in gay chase of the shy gazelles ; 
No keener driver of the chariot 
In mimic contest scoured the Palace-courts : 
Yet in mid-play the boy would ofttimes pause, 
Letting the deer pass free ; would ofttimes yield 
His half-won race because his laboring steeds 
Fetched painful breath ; or if his princely mates 
Saddened to lose, or if some wistful dream 
Swept o'er his thoughts. And ever with the years 
Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord, 
Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves 
To spread its shade afar ; but hardly yet 
Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, or tears, 
Save as strange names for things not felt by kings, 



1 6 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Not ever to be felt. Then it befell 

In the Royal garden on a day of spring, 

A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north 

To their nest-places on Himala's breast. 

Calling in love-notes down their snowy line 

The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted ; 

And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince, 

Pointed his bow, and loosed a wilful shaft 

Which found the wide wing of the foremost swan 

Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue road. 

So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed. 

Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure plumes. 

Which seeing, Prince Siddartha took the bird 

Tenderly up, rested it in his lap — 

Sitting with knees crossed, as Lord Buddha sits — 

And, soothing with a touch the wild thing^s fright. 

Composed its ruflled vans, calmed its quick heart. 

Caressed it into peace with light kind palms 

As soft as plantain-leaves an hour unrolled ; 

And while the right hand held, the left hand drew 

The cruel steel forth from the wound, and laid 

Cool leaves and healing honey on the smart. 

Yet all so little knew the boy of pain 

That curiously into his wrist he pressed 



BOOK THE FIRST. I J 

The arrow's barb, and winced to feel it sting, 
And turned with tears to soothe his bird again. 

Then some one came who said: — "My Prince 

hath shot 
A swan, which fell among the roses here, 
He bids me pray you send it. Will you send?" 
"Nay," quoth Siddartha, "if the bird were dead 
To send it to the slayer might be well, 
But the swan lives ; my cousin hath but killed 
The god-like speed which throbbed in this white 

wing."' 
And Devadatta answered: — "The wild thing. 
Living or dead, is his who fetched it down ; 
*Twas no man's in the clouds, but fall'n His mine. 
Give me my prize, fair Cousin.'^ Then our Lord 
Laid the swan's neck beside his own smooth 

cheek 
And gravely spake: — " Say no I the bird is mine. 
The first of myriad things which shall be mine 
By right of mercy and love's lordliness. 
For now I know, by what within me stirs. 
That I shall teach compassion unto men 
And be a speechless world's interpreter, 



l8 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Abating this accursed flood of woe, 

Not man's alone ; but, if the Prince disputes, 

Let him submit his matter to the wise 

And we will wait their word/' So was it done; 

In full divan the business had debate. 

And many thought this thing and many that ; 

Till there arose an unknown priest who said : — 

" If hfe be aught, the savior of a life 

Owns more the living thing than he can own 

Who sought to slay — the slayer spoils and wastes, 

The cherisher sustains ; give him the bird : " 

Which judgment all found just ; but when the 

King 
Sought out the sage for honor, he was gone, 
And some one saw a hooded snake glide forth, — 
The gods come ofttimes thus ! So our Lord Buddh 
Began his works of mercy. 

Yet not more 
Knew he as yet of grief than that one bird's. 
Which, being healed, went joyous to its kind. 
But on another day the King said: — "Come, 
Sweet son ! and see the pleasaunce of the spring, 
And how the fruitful earth is wooed to yield 
Its riches to the reaper ; how my realm — 



BOOK THE FIRST. 1 9 

Which shall be thine when the pile flames for 

me — 
Feeds all its mouths and keeps the King's chest 

filled. 
Fair is the season with new leaves, bright blooms, 
Green grass, and cries of plough-time/' So they 

rode 
Into a land of wells and gardens, where. 
All up and down the rich red loam, the steers 
Strained their strong shoulders in the creaking 

yoke 
Dragging the ploughs ; the fat soil rose and rolled 
In smooth long waves back from the plough ; who 

drove 
Planted both feet upon the leaping share 
To make the furrow deep ; among the palms 
The tinkle of the rippling water rang, 
And where it ran the glad earth 'broidered it 
With balsams and the spears of lemon-grass. 
Elsewhere were sowers who went forth to sow ; 
And all the jungle laughed with nesting-songs, 
And all the thickets rustled with small life, 
Of lizard, bee, beetle, and creeping things 
Pleased at the spring-time. In the mango-sprays 



20 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

The sun-birds flashed ; alone at his green forge 
Toiled the loud coppersmith ; bee-eaters hawked, 
Chasing the purple butterflies ; beneath, 
Striped squirrels raced, the mynas perked and 

picked, 
The seven brown sisters chattered in the thorn, 
The pied fish-tiger hung above the pool, 
The egrets stalked among the buffaloes. 
The kites sailed circles in the golden air ; 
About the painted temple peacocks flew, 
The blue doves cooed from every well, far off 
The village drums beat for some marriage-feast ; 
All things spoke peace and plenty, and the Prince 
Saw and rejoiced. But, looking deep, he saw 
The thorns which grow upon this rose of life : 
How the swart peasant sweated for his wage. 
Toiling for leave to live ; and how he urged 
The great-eyed oxen through the flaming hours. 
Goading their velvet flanks : then marked he, too. 
How lizard fed on ant, and snake on him, 
And kite on both ; and how the fish-hawk robbed 
The fish-tiger of that which it had seized ; 
The shrike chasing the bulbul, which did hunt 
The jewelled butterflies ; till everywhere 




ft-— 



The Meditation. 



BOOK THE FIRST. 21 

Each slew a slayer and in turn was slain, 
Life living upon death. So the fair show 
Veiled one vast, savage, grim conspiracy 
Of mutual murder, from the worm to man. 
Who himself kills his fellow ; seeing which — 
The hungry ploughman and his laboring kine, 
Their dewlaps blistered with the bitter yoke. 
The rage to live which makes all living strife — 
The Prince Siddartha sighed. " Is this,'' he said, 
"That happy earth they brought me forth to see? 
How salt with sweat the peasant's bread ! how 

hard 
The oxen's service ! in the brake how fierce 
The war of weak and strong ! i' th' air what 

plots ! 
No refuge e'en in water. Go aside 
A space, and let me muse on what ye show." 

So saying the good Lord Buddha seated him 
Under a jambu-tree, with ankles crossed — 
As holy statues sit — and first began 
To meditate this deep disease of life, 
What its far source and whence its remedy. 
So vast a pity filled him, such wide love 



22 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

For living things, such passion to heal pain, 
That by their stress his princely spirit passed 
To ecstasy, and, purged from mortal taint 
Of sense and self, the boy attained thereat 
Dhy^na, first step of " the path.'" 

There flew 
High overhead that hour five holy ones. 
Whose free wings faltered as they passed the tree. 
' ' What power superior draws us from our flight ? ^'' 
They asked, — for spirits feel all force divine. 
And know the sacred presence of the pure. 
Then, looking downward, they beheld the Buddh 
Crowned with a rose-hued aureole, intent 
On thoughts to save ; while from the grove a voice 
Cried : — " Rishis I this is He shall help the world, 
Descend and worship."' So the Bright Ones came 
And sang a song of praise, folding their wings ; 
Then journeyed on, taking good news to Gods. 

But certain from the King seeking the Prince 
Found him still musing, though the noon was past. 
And the sun hastened to the western hills : 
Yet, while all shadows moved, the jambu-tree's 
Stayed in one quarter, overspreading him, 



BOOK THE FIRST. 23 



Lest the sloped rays should strike that sacred 

head ; 
And he who saw this sight heard a voice say, 
Amid the blossoms of the rose-apple : — 
"Let be the King's son I till the shadow goes 
Forth from his heart my shadow will not shift."' 



BOOK THE SECOND, 



(2S) 



BOOK THE SECOND. 2/ 



BOOK THE SECOND. 



Now, when our Lord was come to eighteen years, 
The King commanded that there should be built 
Three stately houses, one of hewn square beams 
With cedar lining, warm for winter days ; 
One of veined marbles, cool for summer heat ; 
And one of burned bricks, with blue tiles bedecked. 
Pleasant at seed-time, when the champaks bud — 
Subha, Suramma, Ramma, were their names. 
Delicious gardens round about them bloomed. 
Streams wandered wild, and musky thickets 

stretched. 
With many a bright pavilion and fair lawn. 
In midst of which Siddartha strayed at will. 
Some new delight provided every hour ; 
And happy hours he knew, for life was rich. 
With youthful blood at quickest ; yet still came 
The shadows of his meditation back. 
As the lake's silver dulls with driving clouds. 



28 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Which the King marking, called his Ministers : 
*' Bethink ye, sirs ! how the old Rishi spake, '■" 
He said, " and what my dream-readers foretold. 
This boy, more dear to me than mine heart's 

blood, 
Shall be of universal dominance, 
Tramphng the neck of all his enemies, 
A King of kings — and this is in my heart ; — 
Or he shall tread the sad and lowly path 
Of self-denial and of pious pains, 
Gainino^ who knows what 2:ood, when all is lost 
Worth keeping ; and to this his wistful eyes 
Do still incline amid my palaces. 
But ye are sage, and ye will counsel me : 
How may his feet be turned to that proud road 
Where they should walk, and all fair signs come 

true 
Which gave him Earth to rule, if he would rule?" 

The eldest answered : — " Maharaja I love 
Will cure these thin distempers ; weave the spell 
Of woman's wiles about his idle heart. 
What knows this noble boy of beauty yet. 
Eyes that make heaven forgot, and lips of balm? 



BOOK THE SECOND. 29 

Find him soft wives and pretty playfellows ; 
The thoughts ye cannot stay with brazen chains 
A girFs hair lightly binds." 

And all thought good. 
But the King answered : — "If we seek him wives. 
Love chooseth ofttimes with another eye ; 
And if we bid range Beauty's garden round. 
To pluck what blossom pleases, he will smile 
And sweetly shun the joy he knows not of.'"' 
Then said another: — " Roams the barasingh 
Until the fated arrow flies ; for him, 
As for less lordly spirits, some one charms. 
Some face will seem a Paradise, some form 
Fairer than pale Dawn when she wakes the world. 
This do, my King ! Command a festival 
Where the realm's maids shall be competitors 
In youth and grace, and sports that Sakyas use. 
Let the Prince give the prizes to the fair, 
And, when the lovely victors pass his seat. 
There shall be those who mark if one or two 
Change the fixed sadness of his tender cheek ; 
So we may chose for Love with Love's own eyes. 
And cheat his Highness into happiness.'' 
This thing seemed good ; wherefore, upon a day, 



30 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

The criers bade the young and beautiful 

Pass to the palace, for 'twas in command 

To hold a court of pleasure, and the Prince 

Would give the prizes, something rich for all, 

The richest for the fairest judged. Thus flocked 

Kapilavastu's maidens to the gate. 

Each with her dark hair newly smoothed and 

bound. 
Eyelashes lustred with the soorma-stick. 
Fresh-bathed and scented ; all in shawls and cloths 
Of gayest ; slender hands and feet new-stained 
With crimson, and the tilka-spots stamped bright. 
Fair show it was of all those Indian girls 
Slow-pacing past the throne with large black eyes 
Fixed on the ground ; for when they saw the Prince 
More than the awe of Majesty made beat 
Their fluttering hearts, he sate so passionless, 
Gentle, but so beyond them. Each maid took 
With down-dropped lids her gift, afraid to gaze ; 
And if the people hailed some lovelier one 
Beyond her rivals w^orthy royal smiles, 
She stood like a scared antelope to touch 
The gracious hand, then fled to join her mates 
Trembling at favor, so divine he seemed, 



BOOK THE SECOND. 31 

So hi2:h and saint-like and above her world. 
Thus filed they, one bright maid after another, 
The city's flowers, and all this beauteous march 
Was ending and the prizes spent, ^yhen last 
Came young Yasodhara, and they that stood 
Nearest Siddartha saw the princely boy 
Start, as the radiant girl approached. A form 
Of heavenly mould ; a gait like Parvati^s ; 
Eyes like a hind's in love-time ; face so fair 
Words cannot paint its spell ; and she alone 
Gazed full — folding her palms across her breasts — 
On the boy's gaze, her stately neck unbent. 
" Is there a gift for me?'' she asked, and smiled. 
"The gifts are gone,^' the Prince replied, "yet 

take 
This for amends, dear sister, of whose grace 
Our happy city boasts ;'' therewith he loosed 
The emerald necklet from his throat, and clasped 
Its green beads round her dark and silk-soft waist ; 
And their eyes mixed, and from the look sprang 

love. 

Lonof after — when enlis^htenment was full — 
Lord Buddha, being prayed why thus his lieart 



32 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Took fire at first glance of the Sakya girl, 
Answered: — "We were not strangers, as to us 
And all it seemed ; in ages long gone by 
A hunter's son, playing with forest girls 
By Yamun's springs, where Nandadevi stands. 
Sate umpire while they raced beneath the firs 
Like hares at eve that run their playful rings ; 
One with flower-stars he crowned ; one with long 

plumes 
Plucked from eyed pheasant and the jungle-cock ; 
One with fir-apples ; but who ran the last 
Came first for him, and unto her the boy 
Gave a tame fawn and his heart's love beside. 
And in the wood they lived many glad years, 
And in the wood they undivided died. 
Lo ! as hid seed shoots after rainless years, 
So good and evil, pains and pleasures, hates 
And loves, and all dead deeds, come forth again 
Bearing bright leaves or dark, sweet fruit or sour. 
Thus I was he and she Yasodhara ; 
And while the wheel of birth and death turns round 
That which hath been must be between us two." 



BOOK THE SECOND, 33 

But they who watched the Prince at prize-giving 
Saw and heard all, and told the careful King 
How sate Siddartha heedless, till there passed 
Great Suprabuddha's child, Yasodhara ; 
And how — at sudden sight of her — he changed, 
And how she gazed on him and he on her, 
And of the jewel-gift, and what beside 
Passed in their speaking glance. 

The fond King smiled : 
' ' Look I we have found a lure ; take counsel now 
To fetch therewith our falcon from the clouds. 
Let messengers be sent to ask the maid 
In marriao^e for mv son." But it was law 
With Sakyas, when any asked a maid 
Of noble house, fair and desirable. 
He must make good his skill in martial arts 
Against all suitors wdio should challenge it ; 
Nor might this custom break itself for kings. 
Therefore her father spake : — " Say to the King, 
The child is sought by princes far and near ; 
If thy most gentle son can bend the bow, 
Sway sword, and back a horse better than they, 
Best would he be in all and best to us : 
But how shall this be, with his cloistered ways?"' 



34 ^^-^ LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Then the King's heart was sore, for now the Prince 

Begged sweet Yasodhara for wife — in vain, 

With Devadatta foremost at the bow, 

Ardjuna master of all fiery steeds. 

And Nanda chief in sword-play ; but the Prince 

Laughed low and said: — "These things, too, I 

have learned : 
Make proclamation that thy son will meet 
All comers at their chosen games. I think 
I shall not lose my love for such as these/' 
So 'twas given forth that on the seventh day 
The Prince Siddartha summoned whoso would 
To match with him in feats of manliness. 
The victor's crown to be Yasodhara. 

Therefore, upon the seventh day, there went 
The S^kya lords, and town and country round, 
Unto the maidan ; and the maid went too 
Amid her kinsfolk, carried as a bride. 
With music, and with litters gayly dight. 
And gold-horned oxen, flower-caparisoned 
Whom Devadatta claimed, of royal line, 
And Nanda and Ardjuna, noble both, 
The flower of all youths there ; till the Prince came 



BOOK THE SECOND. 35 

Riding his white horse Kantaka, which neighed, 
Astonished at this great strange world without : 
Also Sidd^rtha gazed with wondering eyes 
On all those people born beneath the throne, 
Otherwise housed than kings, otherwise fed. 
And yet so like — perchance — in joys and griefs. 
But when the Prince saw sweet Yasodhara, 
Brightly he smiled, and drew his silken rein. 
Leaped to the earth from Kantaka's broad back, 
And cried : — " He is not worthy of this pearl 
Who is not worthiest ; let my rivals prove 
If I have dared too much in seeking her/' 
Then Nanda challenged for the arrow-test 
And set a brazen drum six gows away, 
Ardiuna six and Devadatta eight : 
But Prince Siddartha bade them set his drum 
Ten gows from off the line, until it seemed 
A cowry-shell for target. Then they loosed. 
And Nanda pierced his drum, Ardjuna his. 
And Devadatta drove a well-aimed shaft 
Through both sides of his mark, so that the 

crowd 
Marvelled and cried ; and sweet Yasodhara 
Dropped the gold sari o'er her fearful eyes, 



36 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Lest she should see her Prince's arrow fail. 
But he, taking their bow of lacquered cane, 
With sinews bound, and strung with silver wire, 
Which none but stalwart arms could draw a span, 
Thrummed it — low laughing — drew the twisted 

string 
Till the horns kissed, and the thick belly 

snapped : 
"That is for play, not love," he said; "hath 

none 
A bow more fit for Sakya lords to use ? *' 
And one said : — " There is Sinhahanu's bow, 
Kept in the temple since we know not when, 
Which none can strino^, nor draw if it be strung:.''' 
"Fetch me," he cried, "that weapon of a man!" 
They brought the ancient bow, wrought of black 

steel, 
Laid with gold tendrils on its branching curves 
Like bison-horns ; and twice Siddartha tried 
Its strength across his knee, then spake : — " Shoot 

now 
With this, my cousins ! " but they could not bring 
The stubborn arms a hand's-breadth nigher use ; 
Then the Prince, lightly leaning, bent the bow, 



BOOK THE SECOND, 3/ 

Slipped home the eye upon the notch, and 

twanged 
Sharply the cord, which, like an eagle's wing 
Thrilling the air, sang forth so clear and loud. 
That feeble folk at home that day inquired : — 
* ' What is this sound ? ^' and people answered 

them : — 
"It is the sound of Sinhahanu's bow, 
Which the King's son has strung and goes to 

shoot." 
Then fitting fair a shaft, he drew and loosed. 
And the keen arrow^ clove the sky, and drave 
Right through that farthest drum, nor stayed its 

flight, 
But skimmed the plain beyond, past reach of eye. 

Next, Devadatta challenged with the sword, 
And clove a Talas-tree six fingers thick ; 
Ardjuna seven ; and Nanda cut through nine ; 
But two such stems together grew, and both 
Siddartha's blade shred at one flashing stroke, 
Keen, but so smooth that the straight trunks up- 
stood. 
And Nanda cried, " His edge turned ! '' and the maid 



38 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Trembled anew seeing the trees erect ; 

Until the Devas of the air, who watclied, 

Blew light breaths from the south, and both green 

crowns 
Crashed in the sand, clean-felled. 

Then brought they steeds 
High-mettled, nobly-bred, and three times scoured 
Around the maidan, but white Kantaka 
Left even the fleetest far behind — so swift, 
That ere the foam fell from his mouth to earth 
Twenty spear-lengths he flew ; but Nanda said : — 
"We too might win with such as Kantaka; 
Fetch an unbroken horse, and let men see 
Who best can back him/" So the syces brought 
A stg.llion dark as night, led by three chains. 
Fierce-eyed, with nostrils wide and tossing mane, 
Unshod, unsaddled, for no rider yet 
Had crossed him. Three times each young 

S^kya 
Sprang to his mighty back, but the hot steed 
Furiously reared, and flung them to the plain 
In dust and shame ; only Ardjuna held 
His seat awhile, and, bidding loose the chains. 
Lashed the black flank, and shook the bit, and held 



BOOK THE SECOND. 39 

The proud jaws fast with grasp of master-hand, 
So that in storms of wrath and rage and fear 
The savage stalhon circled once the plain 
Half-tamed; but sudden turned with naked teeth, 
Gripped by the foot Ardjuna, tore him down, 
And would have slain him, but the grooms ran in 
Fettering the maddened beast. Then all men 

cried : — 
" Let not Siddartha meddle with this Bhut, 
Whose liver is a tempest, and his blood 
Red flame : " but the Prince said : — " Let go the 

chains, 
Give me his forelock only,'' which he held 
With quiet grasp, and speaking some low word, 
Laid his right palm across the stallion's eyes, 
And drew it gently down the angry face. 
And all along the neck and panting flanks, 
Till men astonished saw the night-black horse 
Sink his fierce crest and stand subdued and meek. 
As though he knew our Lord and worshipped him, 
Nor stirred he while Siddartha mounted : then 
Went soberly to touch of knee and rein 
Before all eyes, so that the people said : — 
" Strive no more, for Siddartha is the best/' 



40 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

And all the suitors answered: — " He is best!" 
And Suprabuddha, father of the maid, 
Said: — "It was in our hearts to find thee best, 
Being dearest, yet what magic taught thee more 
Of manhood mid thy rose-bowers and thy dreams 
Than war and chase and world's work bring to 

these? 
But wear, fair Prince, the treasure thou hast 

won." 
Then at a word the lovely Indian girl 
Rose from her place above the throng, and took 
A crown of mogra-fiowers, and lightly drew 
The veil of black and gold across her brow. 
Proud-pacing past the youths, until she came 
To w^here Siddartha stood in grace divine, 
New-lighted from the nio^ht-dark steed, which 

bent 
Its strong neck meekly underneath his arm. 
Before the Prince lowly she bowed, and bared 
Her face celestial beaming with glad love ; 
Then on his neck she hung the fragrant wreath, 
And on his breast she laid her perfect head. 
And stooped to touch his feet with proud glad 

eyes, 



BOOK THE SECOND. 4 1 

Saying: — "Dear Prince, behold me, who am 

thine ! " 
And all the throng rejoiced, seeing them pass 
Hand fast in hand, and heart beating with heart, 
The veil of black and gold drawn close again. 

Long after — when enlightenment was come — 
They prayed Lord T3uddha touching all, and why 
She wore this black and gold, and stejDped so 

proud. 
And the World-honored answered: — "Unto me 
This was unknown, albeit it seemed half known ; 
For while the wheel of birth and death turns 

round, 
Past things and thoughts, and buried lives come 

back. 
I now remember, myriad rains ago. 
What time I roamed Himala\s hanging woods, 
A tiger, with my striped and hungry kind ; 
I, Avho am Buddh, couched in the kusa grass 
Gazing with green blinked eyes upon the herds 
Which pastured near and nearer to their death 
Round my day-lair ; or underneath the stars 
I roamed for prey, .savage, insatiable, 



42 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Sniffing the paths for track of man and deer. 

Amid the beasts that were my fellows then, 

Met in deep jungle or by reedy jheel, 

A tigress, comeliest of the forest, set 

The males at war ; her hide was lit with gold, 

Black-broidered like the veil Yasodhara 

Wore for me ; hot the strife waxed in that wood 

With tooth and claw, while, underneath a neem 

The fair beast watched us bleed, thus fiercely 

wooed. 
And I remember, at the end she came, 
Snarling, past this and that torn forest-lord 
Whom I had conquered, and with fawning jaws 
Licked my quick-heaving flank, and with me went 
Into the wild with proud steps, amorously. 
The wheel of birth and death turns low and 

high." 

Therefore the maid was given unto the Prince 
A willing spoil ; and when the stars were good — 
Mesha, the Red Ram, being Lord of heaven — 
The marriage feast was kept, as Sakyas use. 
The golden gadi set, the carpet spread. 
The wedding garlands hung, the arm-threads tied, 



BOOK THE SECOND. 43 

The sweet cake broke, the rice and attar thrown. 
The two straws floated on the reddened milk, 
Which, coming close, betokened "love till death; " 
The seven steps taken thrice around the fire. 
The gifts bestowed on holy men, the alms 
And temple-oflferings made, the mantras sung, 
The garments of the bride and bridegroom tied. 
Then the gray father spake : — " Worshipful Prince, 
She that was ours henceforth is only thine ; 
Be good to her, who hath her life in thee.'' 
Wherewith they brought home sweet Yasodhara, 
With songs and trumpets, to the Prince's arms, 
And love was all in all. 

Yet not to love 
Alone trusted the King ; love's prison-house 
Stately and beautiful he bade them build, 
So that in all the earth no marvel was 
Like Vishramvan, the Prince's pleasure-place. 
Midway in those wide palace-grounds there rose 
A verdant hill whose base Rohini bathed, 
Murmuring adown from Himalayas broad feet. 
To bear its tribute into Gunga's waves. 
wSouthward a growth of tamarind trees and s^l, 
Thick set with pale sky-colored gantlii flowers, 



44 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Shut out the world, save if the city's hum 
Came on the wind no harsher than when bees 
Buzz out of sight in thickets. Northwards soared 
The stainless ramps of huge HimMa's wall, 
Ranged in white ranks against the blue — untrod, 
Infinite, wonderful — whose uplands vast, 
And lifted universe of crest and crag, 
Shoulder and shelf, green slope and icy horn, 
Riven ravine, and splintered precipice 
Led climbing thought higher and higher, until 
It seemed to stand in heaven and speak with 

gods. 
Beneath the snows dark forests spread, sharp-laced 
With leaping cataracts and veiled with clouds : 
Lower grew rose-oaks and the great fir groves 
Where echoed pheasant's call and panther's cry, 
Clatter of wild sheep on the stones, and scream 
Of circling eagles : under these the plain 
Gleamed like a praying^carpet at the foot 
Of those divinest altars. Fronting this 
The builders set the bright pavilion up, 
Fair-planted on the terraced hill, with towers 
On either flank and pillared cloisters round. 
Its beams were carved with stories of old time — 



BOOK THE SECOND. 45 

Radha and Krishna and the sylvan girls — 

Sita and Hanuman and Draupadi ; 

And on the middle porch God Ganesha, 

With disc and hook — to bring wisdom and 

wealth — 
Propitious sate, wreathing his sidelong trunk. 
By winding ways of garden and of court 
The inner gate was reached, of marble wrought 
White, with pink veins ; the lintel lazuli, 
The threshold alabaster, and the doors 
Sandal-wood, cut in pictured panelling ; 
Whereby to lofty halls and shadowy bowers 
Passed the delighted foot, on stately stairs, 
Through latticed galleries, 'neath painted roofs 
And clustering columns, where cool fountains — 

fringed 
With lotus and nelumbo — danced ; and fish 
Gleamed through their crystal, scarlet, gold, and 

blue ; 
Great-eyed gazelles in sunny alcoves browsed 
The blown red roses ; birds of rainbow wing 
Fluttered among the palms ; doves, green and gray, 
Built their safe nests on gilded cornices ; 
Over the shining pavements peacocks drew 



46 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

The splendors of their trains, sedately watched 
By milk-white herons and the small house-owls. 
The plum-necked parrots swung from fruit to fruit ; 
The yellow sunbirds whirred from bloom to bloom, 
The timid lizards on the lattice basked 
Fearless, the squirrels ran to feed from hand ; 
For all was peace : the shy black snake, that 

gives 
Fortune to households, sunned his sleepy coils 
Under the moon-flowers, where the musk-deer 

played. 
And brown -eyed monkeys chattered to the crows. 
And all this House of love was peopled fair 
With sweet attendance, so that in each part 
With lovely sights were gentle faces found. 
Soft speech and willing service ; each one glad 
To gladden, pleased at pleasure, proud to obey; 
Till life glided beguiled, like a smooth stream 
Banked by perpetual fiow'rs, Yasodhara 
Queen of the enchanting Court. 

But, innermost. 
Beyond the richness of those hundred halls, 
A secret chamber lurked, where skill had spent 
All lovely f^intasies to lull the mind. 




-l^pW?£^'5^ 



Yasodhara. 



BOOK THE SECOND, 47 

The entrance of it was a cloistered square — 

Roofed by the sky, and in the midst a tank — 

Of milky marble built, and laid with slabs 

Of milk-white marble ; bordered round the tank 

And on the steps, and all along the frieze 

With tender inlaid work of agate-stones. 

Cool as to tread in summer-time on snows 

It was to loiter there ; the sunbeams dropped 

Their gold, and, passing into porch and niche, 

Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and dim. 

As if the very Day paused and grew Eve 

In love and silence at that bower's gate; 

For there beyond the gate the chamber was, 

Beautiful, sweet ; a wonder of the world ! 

Soft light from perfumed lamps through windows 

fell. 
Of nakre and stained stars of lucent film, 
On golden cloths outspread, and silken beds, 
And heavy splendor of the purdah's fringe, 
Lifted to take only the loveliest in. 
Here, whether it was night or day none knew, 
For always streamed that softened light, more 

bright 
Than sunrise, but as tender as the eve's ; 



48 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And always breathed sweet airs, more joy-giving 
Than morning's, but as cool as midnight's breath ; 
And night and day lutes sighed, and night and 

day 
Delicious foods were spread, and dewy fruits, 
Sherbets new chilled with snows of Himalay, 
And sweetmeats made of subtle daintiness, 
With sweet tree- milk in its own ivory cup. 
And night and day served there a chosen band 
Of nautch girls, cup-bearers, and cymballers, 
Delicate, dark-browed ministers of love, 
Who fanned the sleeping eyes of the happy Prince, 
And when he waked, led back his thoughts to 

bliss 
With music whispering through the blooms, and 

charm 
Of amorous songs and dreamy dances, linked 
By chime of ankle-bells and wave of arms 
And silver vina-strings ; while essences 
Of musk and champak, and the blue haze spread 
From burning spices, soothed his soul again 
To drowse by sweet Yasodhara ; and thus 
Siddartha lived forgetting. 



BOOK THE SECOND. 49 

Furthermore, 
The King commanded that within those walls 
No mention should be made of death or age, 
Sorrow, or pain, or sickness. If one drooped 
In the lovely Court — her dark glance dim, her 

feet 
Faint in the dance — the guiltless criminal 
Passed forth an exile from that Paradise, 
Lest he should see and suffer at her woe. 
Bright-eyed intendants watched to execute 
Sentence on such as spake of the harsh world 
Without, where aches and plagues were, tears and 

fears, 
And wail of mourners, and grim fume of pyres. 
'Twas treason if a thread of silver strayed 
In tress of singing-girl or nautch-dancer ; 
And every dawn the dying rose was plucked. 
The dead leaves hid, all evil sights removed : 
For said the King, "If he shall pass his youth 
Far from such things as move to wistfulness. 
And brooding on the empty eggs of thought, 
The shadow of this fate, too vast for man. 
May fade, belike, and I shall see him grow 
To that great stature of fair sovereignty 



50 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

When he shall rule all lands — if he will rule — 
The King of kings and Glory of his time." 

Wherefore, around that pleasant prison-house — 
Where Love was jailer and delights its bars — 
But far removed from sight, the King bade build 
A massive wall, and in the wall a gate 
With brazen folding-doors, which but to roll 
Back on their hinges asked a hundred arms ; 
Also the noise of that prodigious gate 
Opening, was heard full half a yojana. 
And inside this another gate he made. 
And yet within another — through the three 
Must one pass if he quit that Pleasure-house. 
Three mighty gates there were, bolted and barred, 
And over each was set a faithful watch ; 
And the King's order said: — "Suffer no man 
To pass the gates, though he should be the 

Prince : 
This on your lives — even though it be my son." 



BOOK THE THIRD, 



;t) 



BOOK THE THIRD. 33 



BOOK THE THIRD, 



In which cahn home of happy Hfe and love 
Ligged our Lord Buddha, knowing not of woe, 
Nor want, nor pain, nor plague, nor age, nor 

death, 
Save as when sleepers roam dim seas in dreams, 
And land awearied on the shores of day. 
Bringing strange merchandise from that black 

voyage 
Thus ofttimes, when he lay with gentle head 
Lulled on the dark breasts of Yasodhara, 
Her fond hands fanning slow his sleeping lids, 
He would start up and cry: — "My world! Oh, 

world ! 
I hear ! I know I I come I ^' And she would ask : — 
"What ails my Lord?'' with large eyes terror- 
struck ; 
For at such times the pity in his look 
Was awful, and his visage like a god's. 



54 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Then would he smile again to stay her tears, 
And bid the vinas sound ; but once they set 
A stringed gourd on the sill, there where the wind 
Could linger o'er its notes and play at will — 
Wild music makes the wind on silver strings — 
And those who lay around heard only that : 
But Prince Siddartha heard the Devas play, 
And to his ears they sang such words as these : — 

We a7^e the voices of the wauderijig wind. 
Which moan for 7^ est, and rest can never find ; 
Lo ! as the wind is, so is mortal life, 
A 7noan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife. 

Wherefore and whence we are ye cannot know. 
Nor where life springs, nor whither life doth go; 
We are as ye are, ghosts from the inane. 
What pleasure have we of our changefd pain ? 

What pleasure hast thou of thy changeless bliss / 
Nay^ if love lasted, there were joy in this ; 
But lifers way is the wind's way, all these things 
Are but brief voices breathed on shifting strings. 



BOOK THE THIRD, 55 

O Mayas son ! because we roam the earth 
Moan we upon these strings : we make no mirth. 
So many woes we see in many laiids, 
So jnany streaming eyes and wringing hands. 

Yet mock we while we wail, for, conld they k)iow. 
This life they cling to is but empty show ; 
^7 were all as well to bid a cloud to stand, 
Or hold a running river with the hand. 

But thou that art to save, thine hour is nigh ! 
The sad world waiteth in its inisery. 
The blind world stuinbleth o?i its rowid of pain ; 
Rise, Mayans child ! wake ! slumber not again I 

We are the voices of the wa?ideri?ig wind: 
Wander thou, too, O Prince, thy rest to find ; 
Leave love for love of lovers^ for woe^s sake 
(2uit state for sorrow, and deliverance make. 

So sigh we. passing o'er the silver strings, 
To thee who know'st jiot yet of earthly things : 
So say we ; mocking, as we pass away. 
These lovely shadows wherewith thou dost play. 



56 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Thereafter it befell he sate at eve 
Amid his beauteous Court, holding the hand 
Of sweet Yasodhara ; and some maid told — 
With breaks of music when her rich voice dropped — 
An ancient tale to speed the hour of dusk., 
Of, love, and of a magic horse, and lands 
Wonderful, distant, where pale peoples dwelled. 
And where the sun at night sank into seas. 
Then spake he, sighing: — " Chitra brings me back 
The wind's song in the strings with that fair tale : 
Give her, Yasodhara, thy pearl for thanks. 
But thou, my pearl! is there so wide a world? 
Is there a land which sees the great sun roll 
Into the waves, and are there hearts like ours. 
Countless, unknown, not happy — it may be — 
Whom we might succor if we knew of them? 
Ofttimes I marvel, as the Lord of day 
Treads from the east his kingly road of gold, 
Who first on the world's edge hath hailed his 

beam. 
The children of the morning; oftentimes. 
Even in thine arms and on thy breasts, bright 

wife. 
Sore have I panted, at the sun's decline, 



BOOK THE THIRD. 57 

To pass with him into that crimson west 

And see the peoples of the evening. 

There must be many we should Jove — how else ? 

Now have I in this hour an ache, at last, 

Thy soft lips cannot kiss away : oh, girl ! 

O Chitra ! you that know of fairyland ! 

Where tether they that swift steed of thy tale? 

My palace for one day upon his back, 

To ride and ride and see the spread of the earth ; 

Nay. if I had yon callow vulture's plumes — 

The carrion heir of wider realms than mine — 

How would I stretch for topmost Himalay, 

Light where the rose-gleam lingers on those snows, 

xA-nd strain my gaze with searching what is round I 

Why have I never seen and never sought? 

Tell me what lies bevond our brazen orates." 

Then one replied : — " The city first, fair Prince ! 
The temples, and the gardens, and the groves. 
And then the field ; and afterwards fresh fields. 
With nullahs, maidans, jungle, koss on koss ; 
And next King Bimbasara's realm, and then 
The vast flat world, with crores on crores of folk.*' 
**Good," said Siddartha ; ''let the word be sent 



58' THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

That Channa yoke my chariot — at noon 
To-morrow I shall ride and see beyond." 

Whereof they told the King: — " Our Lord, thy 
son, 
Wills that his chariot be yoked at noon. 
That he may ride abroad and see mankind." 

' ' Yea ! " spake the careful King, ' ' His time he 
see ; 
But let the criers go about and bid 
My city deck itself, so there be met 
No noisome sight ; and let none blind or maimed. 
None that is sick, or stricken deep in 3^ears, 
No leper, and no feeble folk come forth." 
Therefore the stones were swept, and up and down 
The water-carriers sprinkled all the streets 
From spirting skins, the housewives scattered fresh 
Red powder on their thresholds, strung new 

wreaths, 
And trimmed the tulsi-bush before their doors. 
The paintings on the walls were heightened up 
With liberal brush, the trees set thick with flags, 
The idols gilded ; in the four-went ways 



BOOK THE THIRD, 59 

Suryadeva and the great gods shone 

Mid shrines of leaves ; so that the city seemed 

A capital of some enchanted land. 

Also the criers passed, with drum and gong, 

Proclaiming loudly: — "Hoi all citizens, 

The King commands that there be seen to-day - 

No evil sight : let no one blind or maimed, 

None that is sick, or stricken deep in years, 

No leper, and no feeble folk go forth. 

Let none, too, burn his dead nor bring them out 

Till nightfall. Thus Suddhodana commands." 

So was all comely and the houses trim 
Throughout Kapilavastu, while the Prince 
Came forth in painted car, which two steers drew, 
Snow-white, with swinging dewlaps, and huge 

humps 
Wrinkled against the carved and lacquered yoke. 
Goodly it was to mark the people's joy 
Greeting their Prince, and glad Siddartha waxed 
At sight of all those liege and friendly folk 
Bright-clad and laughing as if life were good. 
"Fair is the world," he said, "it likes me well! 
And light and kind these men that are not kings. 



6o THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And sweet my sisters here, who toil and tend ; 
What have I done for these to make them thus? 
Why, if I love them, should those children know? 
I pray take up yon pretty Sakya boy 
Who flung us flowers, and let him ride with me. 
How good it is to reign in realms like this ! 
How simple pleasure is, if these be pleased 
Because I come abroad ! How many things 
I need not if such little households hold 
Enough to make our city full of smiles ! 
Drive, Channa ! through the gates, and let me see 
More of this o^racious world I have not known." 

So passed they through the gates, a joyous crowd 
Thronging about the wheels, whereof some ran 
Before the oxen, throwing wreaths ; some stroked 
Their silken flanks ; some brought them rice and 

cakes, 
All crying : — " Jai ! jai ! for our noble Prince ! '** 
Thus all the path was kept with gladsome looks 
And filled with fair sights — for the King's word 

was 
That such should be — when midway in the road. 
Slow totterino: from the hovel where he hid, 



BOOK THE THIRD, 6 1 

Crept forth a wretch in rags, haggard and foul, 
An old, old man, whose shrivelled skin, sun-tanned, 
Clung: like a beast's hide to its fleshless bones. 
Bent was his back with load of many days, 
His eyepits red with rust of ancient tears. 
His dim orbs blear with rheum, his toothless jaws 
Wagging with palsy and the fright to see 
So many and such joy. One skinny hand 
Clutched a worn staff to prop his quavering limbs, 
And one was pressed upon the ridge of ribs 
Whence came in gasps the heavy painful breath. 
"Alms!'' moaned he, "give, good people! for I 

die 
To-morrow or the next day ! " then the cough 
Choked him, but still he stretched his palm, and 

stood 
Blinking, and groaning mid his spasms, "Alms!" 
Then those around had wrenched his feeble feet 
Aside, and thrust him from the road again. 
Saying : — " The Prince ! dost see? get to thy lair ! '" 
But that Siddartha cried : — " Let be ! let be ! 
Channa ! what thing is this who seems a man, 
Yet surely only seems, being so bowed. 
So miserable, so horrible, so sad? 



62 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Are men born sometimes thus? What meaneth he 
Moaning ' to-morrow or next day I die ' ? 
Finds he no food tliat so his bones jut forth? 
What woe hath happened to this piteous one ? " 
Then answer made the charioteer: — " Sweet Prince I 
This is no other than an aged man ; 
Some fourscore years ago his back was straight, 
His eye bright, and his body goodly : now 
The thievish years have sucked his sap away, 
Pillaged his strength and filched his will and wit ; 
His lamp has lost its oil, the wick burns black ; 
What life he keeps is one poor lingering spark 
Which flickers for the finish : such is age ; 
Why should your Highness heed?^' Then spake 

the Prince : — 
''But shall this come to others, or to all. 
Or is it rare that one should be as he ? ""^ 
''Most noble," answered Channa, "even as he, 
Will all these grow if they shall live so long.''' 
" But," quoth the Prince, "if I shall live as long 
Shall I be thus ; and if Yasodhara 
Live fourscore years, is this old age for her, 
JaUni, little Hasta, Gautami, 
And Gunoa, and the others?" "Yea, great Sir!" 



BOOK THE THIRD. 63 

The charioteer repHed. Then spake the Prince : — 
** Turn back, and drive me to my house again ! 
I have seen that I did not think to see.'' 

Which pondering, to his beauteous Court re- 
turned 
Wistful Sidd^rtha, sad of mien and mood ; 
Nor tasted he the white cakes nor the fruits 
Spread for the evening feast, nor once looked up 
While the best palace-dancers strove to charm : 
Nor spake — save one sad thing — when wofully 
Yasodhara sank to his feet and wept, 
Sighing : — '' Hath not my Lord comfort in me ? "" 
"Ah, Sweet!'' he said, "such comfort that my 

soul 
Aches, thinking it must end, for it will end. 
And we shall both grow old, Yasodhara I 
Loveless, unlovely, weak, and old, and bowed. 
Nay, though we locked up love and life with lips 
So close that night and day our breaths grew one, 
Time would thrust in between to filch away 
My passion and thy grace, as black Night steals 
The rose-gleams from yon peak, which fade to gray 
And are not seen to fade. This have I found. 



64 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And all my heart is darkened with its dread, 
And all my heart is fixed to think how Love 
Might save its sweetness from the slayer, Time, 
Who makes men old." So through that night he sat 
Sleepless, uncomforted. 

And all that night 
The King Suddhodana dreamed troublous dreams. 
The first fear of his vision was a flag 
Broad, glorious, glistening with a golden sun. 
The mark of Indra ; but a strong wind blew. 
Rending its folds divine, and dashing it 
Into the dust ; whereat a concourse came 
Of shadowy Ones, who took the spoiled silk up 
And bore it eastward from the city gates. 
The second fear was ten huge elephants. 
With silver tusks and feet that shook the earth, 
Trampling the southern road in mighty march ; 
And he who sat upon the foremost beast 
Was the King's son — the others followed him. 
The third fear of the vision was a car. 
Shining with blinding light, . which four steeds 

drew. 
Snorting white smoke and champing fiery foam ; 
And in the car the Prince Sidd^rtha sat. 



BOOK THE THIRD, 65 

The fourth fear was a wheel which turned and 

turned, 
With nave of burning gold and jewelled spokes, 
And strange things written on the binding tire, 
Which seemed both fire and music as it whirled. 
The fifth fear was a mighty drum, set down 
Midway between the city and the hills, 
On which the Prince beat with an iron mace, 
So that the sound pealed like a thunderstorm, 
Rolling around the sky and far away. 
The sixth fear was a tow^er, w^hich rose and rose 
High o'er the city till its stately head 
Shone crowned with clouds, and on the top tlie 

Prince 
Stood, scattering from both hands, this way and 

that, 
Gems of most lovely light, as if it rained 
Jacynths and rubies ; and the whole world came. 
Striving to seize those treasures as they fell 
Towards the four quarters. But the seventh fear was 
A noise of wailing, and behold six men 
Who wept and gnashed their teeth, and laid their 

palms 
Upon their mouths, walking disconsolate. 



66 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

These seven fears made the vision of his sleep, 
But none of all his wisest dream-readers 
Could tell their meaning. Then the King was 

wroth, 
Saying: — *' There cometh evil to my house, 
And none of ye have wit to help me know 
What the great gods portend sending me this." 
So in the city men went sorrowful 
Because the King had dreamed seven signs of fear 
Which none could read ; but to the gate there 

came 
An aged man, in robe of deer-skin clad. 
By guise a hermit, known to none ; he cried : — 
' ' Bring me before the King, for I can read 
The vision of his sleep ; " who, when he heard 
The seven-fold mysteries of the midnight dream, 
Bowed reverent and said: — '' O Maharaj ! 
I hail this favored House, whence shall arise 
A wider-reaching splendor than the sun^s ! 
Lo ! all these seven fears are seven joys, 
Whereof the first, where thou didst see a flag — 
Broad, glorious, gilt with Indra's badge — cast 

down 
And carried out, did signify the end 



BOOK THE THIRD, 6 J 

Of old faiths and beginning of the new : 
For there is change with gods not less than men, 
And as the days pass kalpas pass — at length. 
The ten great elephants that shook the earth 
The ten great gifts of wisdom signify, 
In strength whereof the Prince shall quit his state 
And shake the world with passage of the Truth. 
The four flame-breathing horses of the car 
Are those four fearless virtues which shall bring 
Thy son from doubt and gloom to gladsome light ; 
The wheel that turned with nave of burning gold 
Was that most precious Wheel of perfect Law 
Which he shall turn in sight of all the world. 
The mighty drum whereon the Prince did beat, 
Till the sound filled all lands, doth signify 
The thunder of the preaching of the Word 
Which he shall preach ; the tower that grew to 

heaven 
The growing of the Gospel of this Buddh 
Sets forth ; and those rare jewels scattered thence 
The untold treasures are of that good Law 
To gods and men dear and desirable. 
Such is the interpretation of the tower ; 
But for those six men weeping with shut mouths, 



68 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

They are the six chief teachers whom thy son 
Shall, with bright truth and speech unanswerable, 
Convince of foolishness. O King I rejoice ; 
The fortune of my Lord the Prince is more 
Than kingdoms, and his hermit-rags will be 
Beyond fine cloths of gold. This was thy dream I 
And in seven nights and days these things shall 

fall." 
So spake the holy man, and lowly made 
The eight prostrations, touching thrice the ground ; 
Then turned and passed ; but when the King bade 

send 
A rich gift after him, the messengers 
Brought word: — "We came to where he entered 

in 
At Chandra's temple, but within was none 
Save a gray owl which fluttered from the shrine.'' 
The gods come sometimes thus. 



But the sad Kin 



& 



Marvelled, and gave command that new delights 
Be compassed to enthral Siddartha's heart 
Amid those dancers of his pleasure-house ; 
Also he set at all the brazen doors 
A doubled guard. 



BOOK THE THIRD. 69 

Yet who shall shut out Fate? 

For once again the spirit of the Prince 
Was moved to see this world beyond his gates, 
This life of man, so pleasant, if its waves 
Ran not to waste and woful finishing 
In Time's dry sands. "I pray you let me view^ 
Our city as it is,"' such was his prayer 
To King Suddhodana. "Your Majesty 
In tender heed hath warned the folk before 
To put away ill things and common sights, 
And make their faces glad to gladden me, 
And all the causeways gay ; yet have I learned 
This is not daily Hfe, and if I stand 
Nearest, my father, to the realm and thee. 
Fain would I know the people and the streets, 
Their simple usual ways, and workday deeds, 
And lives which those men live who are not kings. 
Give me good leave, dear Lord I to pass unknown 
Beyond my happy gardens ; I shall come 
The more contented to their peace again, 
Or wiser, father, if not well content. 
Therefore, I pray thee, let me go at will 
To-morrow, with my servants, through the streets."" 



70 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And the King said, amidst his Ministers : — 
** BeHke this second flight may mend the first. 
Note how the falcon starts at every sight 
New from his hood, but what a quiet eye 
Cometh of freedom ; let my son see all, 
And bid them bring me tidings of his mind." 

Thus on the morrow, when the noon was come, 
The Prince and Channa passed beyond the gates. 
Which opened to the signet of the King ; 
Yet knew not they who rolled the great doors 

back, 
It w^as the King^s son in that merchant's robe, 
And in the clerkly dress his charioteer. 
Forth fared they by the common way afoot, 
Mingling with all the S^kya citizens, 
Seeing the glad and sad things of the town : 
The painted streets alive with hum of noon. 
The traders cross-legged mid their spice and 

grain, 
The buyers with their money in the cloth, 
The war of words to cheapen this or that. 
The shout to clear the road, the huge stone 

wheels, 



BOOK THE THIRD. /I 

The strong slow oxen and their rustling loads, 
The singing bearers with the palanquins, 
The broad-necked hamals sweating in the sun. 
The housewives bearing water from the well 
With balanced chatties, and athwart their hips 
The black-eyed babes ; the fly-swarmed sweetmeat 

shops, 
The weaver at his loom, the cotton-bow 
Twanging, the millstones grinding meal, the dogs 
Prowling for orts, the skilful armorer 
With tong and hammer linking shirts of mail, 
The blacksmith with a mattock and a spear 
Reddening together in his coals, the school 
Where round their Guru, in a grave half-moon. 
The S^kya children sang the mantras through, 
And learned the greater and the lesser gods ; 
The dyers stretching waistcloths in the sun 
Wet from the vats — orange, and rose, and green; 
The soldiers clanking past with swords and shields, 
The camel-drivers rocking on the humps. 
The Brahman proud, the martial Kshatriya, 
The humble toiling Sudra ; here a throng 
Gathered to watch some chattering snake-tamer 
Wind round his wrist the living jewellery 



72 ^ THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Of asp and nag, or charm the hooded death 
To angry dance with drone of beaded gourd ; 
There a long hne of drums and horns, which 

went, 
With steeds gay painted and silk canopies, 
To bring the young bride home ; and here a wife 
Stealing with cakes and garlands to the god 
To pray her husband's safe return from trade. 
Or beg a boy next birth ; hard by the booths 
Where the swart potters beat the noisy brass 
For lamps and lotas ; thence, by temple walls 
And gateways, to the river and the bridge 
Under the city walls. 

These had they passed 
When from the roadside moaned a mournful voice : — 
*' Help, masters! lift me to my feet; oh, help! 
Or I shall die before I reach my house ! " 
A stricken wretch it was, whose quivering frame, 
Caught by some deadly plague, lay in the dust 
Writhing, with fiery purple blotches specked : 
The chill sweat beaded on his brow, his mouth 
Was dragged awry with twitchings of sore pain. 
The wild eyes swam with inward agony. 
Gasping, he clutched the grass to rise, and rose 



BOOK THE THIRD, 73 

Half-way, then sank, with quaking feeble limbs 
And scream of terror, crying: — "Ah, the pain! 
Good people, help I '' whereon Sidd^rtha ran, 
Lifted the woful man with tender hands. 
With sweet looks laid the sick head on his knee. 
And, while his soft touch comforted the wretch, 
Asked: — "Brother, what is ill with thee? what 

harm 
Hath fallen? wherefore can'st thou not arise? 
Why is it, Channa, that he pants and moans, 
And gasps to speak, and sighs so pitiful?'' 
Then spake the charioteer : — " Great Prince ! this 

man 
Is smitten with some pest ; his elements 
Are all confounded ; in his veins the blood, 
Which ran a wholesome river, leaps and boils 
A fiery flood ; his heart, which kept good time. 
Beats like an ill -played drum-skin, quick and slow ; 
His sinews slacken like a bowstring slipped ; 
The strength is gone from ham, and loin, and 

neck. 
And all the grace and joy of manhood fled : 
This is a sick man with the fit upon him. 
See how he plucks and plucks to seize his grief, 



74 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And rolls his bloodshot orbs, and grinds his teeth. 

And draws his breath as if Hwere choking smoke ! 

Lo I now he would be dead ; but shall not die 

Until the plague hath had its work in him, 

Killing the nerves which die before the life ; 

Then, when his strings have cracked with agony 

And all his bones are empty of the sense 

To ache, the plague will quit and light elsew^here. 

Oh, sir! it is not good to hold him so! 

The harm may pass, and strike thee, even thee.''^ 

But spake the Prince, still comforting the man : — 

"And are there others, are there many thus? 

Or might it be to me as now with him ? '' 

' ' Great Lord ! " answered the charioteer, * ' this 

comes 
In many forms to all men ; griefs and wounds, 
Sickness and tetters, palsies, leprosies. 
Hot fevers, watery wastings, issues, blains 
Befall all flesh and enter everywhere." 
' ' Come such ills unobserved ? '^ the Prince in- 
quired. 
And Channa said : — " Like the sly snake they come 
That stings unseen ; like the striped murderer, 
Who waits to spring from the Karunda bush. 



BOOK THE THIRD. 75 

Hiding beside the jungle path ; or Hke 

The lightning, striking these and sparing those, 

As chance may send." 

'' Then all men live in fear?" 
"So live they, Prince!" 

" And none can say : — - I sleep 
Happy and whole to-night, and so shall wake'?*' 
" None say it." 

" And the end of many aches, 
Which come unseen, and will come when they 

come, 
Is this, a broken body and sad mind, 
And so old age ? '' 

"Yea, if men last as long.*" 
" But if they cannot bear their agonies, 
Or if they will not bear, and seek a term ; 
Or if they bear, and be, as this man is, 
Too weak except for groans, and so still live. 
And growing old, grow older, then — what end?'' 
"They die, Prince." 

-Die?" 

"Yea, at the last comes Death, 
In whatsoever way, whatever hour. 
Some few grow old, most suffer and fall sick, 



J 6 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

But all must die — behold, where comes the 
Dead ! '' 

Then did Siddartha raise his eyes, and see 
Fast pacing towards the river-brink a band 
Of wailing people : foremost one who swung 
An earthen bowl with lighted coals ; behind 
The kinsmen, shorn, with mourning marks, ungirt, 
Crying aloud : — " O Rama, Rama, hear ! 
Call upon Rama, brothers ; '' next the bier, 
Knit of four poles with bamboos interlaced, 
Whereon lay — stark and stiff, feet foremost, lean, 
Chapfallen, sightless, hollow-flanked, a-grin, 
Sprinkled with red and yellow dust — the Dead, 
Whom at the four-went ways they turned head 

first, 
And crying : — " Rama, Rama ! " carried on 
To where a pile was reared beside the stream : 
Thereon they laid him, building fuel up — 
Good sleep hath one that slumbers on that bed ! 
He shall not wake for cold, albeit he lies 
Naked to all the airs — for soon they set 
The red flame to the corners four, which crept, 
And licked, and flickered, finding out his flesh 



BOOK THE THIRD. yy 

/\nd feeding on it with swift hissing tongues, 
And crackle of parched skin, and snap of joint ; 
Till the fat smoke thinned and the ashes sank 
Scarlet and gray, with here and there a bone 
White midst the gray — the total of the man. 

Then spake the Prince : — "Is this the end which 
comes 
To all who live ? '' 

' ' This is the end that comes 
To all,"" quoth Channa ; "he upon the pyre — 
Whose remnants are so petty that the crows 
Caw hungrily, then quit the fruitless feast — 
Ate, drank, laughed, loved, and lived, and liked 

life well. 
Then came — who knows? — some gust of jungle 

wind, 
A stumble on the path, a taint in the tank, 
A snake's nip, half a span of angry steel, 
A chill, a fishbone, or a falling tile. 
And life was over and the man is dead. 
No appetites, no pleasures, and no pains 
Hath such ; the kiss upon his lips is naught, 
The fire-scorch naught ; he smelleth not his flesh 



78 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

A-roast, nor yet the sandal and the spice 

They burn ; the taste is emptied from his mouth, 

The hearing of his ears is clogged, the sight 

Is bhnded in his eyes ; those whom he loved 

Wail desolate, for even that must go, ' 

The body which was lamp unto the life, 

Or worms will have a horrid feast of it. 

Here is the common destiny of flesh : 

The high and low, the good and bad, must die, 

And then, 'tis taught, begin anew^ and live 

Somewhere, somehow — who know^s? — and so 

again 
The pangs, the parting, and the lighted pile : — 
Such is man's round/' 

But lo ! Sidd^rtha turned 
Eyes gleaming with divine tears to the sky. 
Eyes lit with heavenly pity to the earth ; 
From sky to earth he looked, from earth to sky. 
As if his spirit sought in lonely flight 
Some far-off vision, linking this and that. 
Lost — past — but searchable, but seen, but 

known. 
Then cried he, while his lifted countenance 
Glowed w^ith the burning passion of a love 



BOOK THE THIRD, 79 

Unspeakable, the ardor of a hope 

Boundless, insatiate : — " Oh ! suffering world ; 

Oh ! known and unknown of my common flesh, 

Caught in this common net of death and woe, 

And life which binds to both ! I see, I feel 

The vastness of the agony of earth, 

The vainness of its joys, the mockery 

Of all its best, the anguish of its worst ; 

Since pleasures end in pain, and youth in age, 

And love in loss, and life in hateful death. 

And death in unknown lives, which will but yoke 

Men to their wheel again to whirl the round 

Of false delights and woes that are not false. 

Me too this lure hath cheated, so it seemed 

Lovely to live, and life a sunlit stream 

For ever flowing in a changeless peace ; 

Whereas the foolish ripple of the flood 

Dances so lightly down by bloom and lawn 

Only to pour its crystal quicklier 

Into the foul salt sea. The veil is rent 

Which blinded me ! I am as all these men 

Who cry upon their gods and are not heard. 

Or are not heeded — yet there must be aid ! 

For them and me and all there must be help ! 



8o rilE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Perchance the gods have need of help themselves, 
Being so feeble that when sad lips cry 
They cannot save ! I would not let one cry 
Whom I could save ! How can it be that Brahm 
Would make a world and keep it miserable, 
Since, if, all-powerful, he leaves it so. 
He is not good, and if not powerful. 
He is not God? — Channa 1 lead home again! 
It is enough ! mine eyes have seen enough ! " 

Which when the King heard, at the gates he 
set 
A triple guard ; and bade no man should pass 
By day or night, issuing or entering in. 
Until the days were numbered of that dream. 



BOOK THE FOURTH. 



BOOK THE FOURTH, 83 



BOOK THE FOURTH, 



But, when the days were numbered, then befell 
The parting of our Lord — which was to be — 
Whereby came wailing in the Golden Home, 
Woe to the King and sorrow o'er the land, 
But for all flesh deliverance, and that Law 
Which whoso hears — the same shall make him 
free. 

Softly the Indian night sinks on the plains 
At full moon, in the month of Chaitra Shud, 
When mangoes redden and the asoka buds 
Sweeten the breeze, and Rama's birthday comes, 
And all the fields are glad and all the towns. 
Softly that night fell over Vishramvan, 
Fragrant with blooms and jewelled thick with 

stars, 
And cool with mountain air sighing adown 
From snow-flats on Him^la high outspread ; 



84 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

For the moon swung above the eastern peaks, 
Climbing the spangled vault, and lighting clear 
Rohini's ripples, and the hills and vales. 
And all the sleeping land ; and near at hand 
Silvering those roof-tops of the pleasure-house, 
Where nothing stirred nor sign of v^atching was, 
Save at the outer gates, whose warders cried 
Mudra, the watchword, and the countersign 
Angana, and the watch-drums beat a round ; 
Whereat the earth lay still, except for yelp 
Of prowling jackals, and the ceaseless trill 
Of crickets in the garden grounds. 

Within — 
Where the moon glittered through the lace-worked 

stone. 
Lighting the walls of pearl-shell and the floors 
Paved with veined marble — softly fell her beams 
On such rare company of Indian girls. 
It seemed some chamber sweet in Paradise 
Where Devis rested. All the chosen ones 
Of Prince Sidd^rtha's pleasure-home were there. 
The brightest and most faithful of the Court ; 
Each form so lovely in the peace of sleep, 
That you had said : — " This is the pearl of all ! " 



BOOK THE FOURTH, 85 

Save that beside her or beyond her lay 
Fairer and fairer, till the pleasured (^aze 
Roamed o'er that feast of beauty as it roams 
From gem to gem in some great goldsmith-work, 
Caught by each color till the next is seen. 1 

With careless grace they lay, their soft brown 

limbs 
Part hidden, part revealed ; their glossy hair 
Bound back with gold or flowers, or flowing loose 
In black waves down the shapely nape and neck. 
Lulled into pleasant dreams by happy toils, 
They slept, no wearier than jewelled birds 
Which sing and love all day, then under wing 
Fold head, till morn bids sing and love again. 
Lamps of chased silver swinging from the roof 
In silver chains, and fed with perfumed oils. 
Made with the moonbeams tender lights and 

shades. 
Whereby were seen the perfect lines of grace, 
The bosom's placid heave, the soft stained palms 
Drooping or clasped, the faces fair and dark, 
The great arched brows, the parted lips, the teeth 
Like pearls a merchant picks to make a string, 
The satin-lidded eyes, with lashes dropped 



86 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Sweeping the delicate cheeks, the rounded wrists, 
The smooth small feet with bells and bangles 

decked, 
Tinkling low music where some sleeper moved, 
Breaking her smiling dream of some new dance 
Praised by the Prince, some magic ring to find. 
Some fairy love-gift. Here one lay full-length. 
Her vina by her cheek, and in its strings 
The little fingers still all interlaced 
As when the last notes of her light song played 
Those radiant eyes to sleep, and sealed her own. 
Another slumbered folding in her arms 
A desert-antelope, its slender head 
Buried with black-sloped horns between her breasts. 
Soft nestling; it was eating — when both drowsed — 
Red roses, and her loosening hand still held 
A rose half-mumbled, while a rose-leaf curled 
Between the deer's lips. Here two friends had 

dozed 
Together, weaving mogra-buds, which bound 
Their sister-sweetness in a starry chain. 
Linking them limb to limb and heart to heart. 
One pillowed on the blossoms, one on her. 
Another, ere she slept, was stringing stones 



BOOK THE FOURTH, 87 

To make a necklet — agate, onyx, sard. 

Coral, and moonstone — round her wrist it gleamed 

A coil of splendid color, while she held, 

Unthreaded yet, the bead to close it up — 

Green turkis, carved with golden gods and scripts. 

Lulled by the cadence of the garden stream. 

Thus lay they on the clustered carpets, each 

A girlish rose with shut leaves, waiting dawn 

To open and make daylight beautiful. 

This was the ante-chamber of the Prince ; 

But at the purdah^s fringe the sweetest slept — 

Gunga and Gotami — chief ministers 

In that still House of love. 

The purdah hung. 
Crimson and blue, with broidered threads of gold, 
Across a portal carved in sandal-wood ; 
Whence by three steps the way was to the bower 
Of inmost splendor, and the marriage-couch 
Set on a dais soft with silver cloths, 
Where the foot fell as though it trod on piles 
Of neem-blooms. All the walls were plates of pearl. 
Cut shapely from the shells of Lanka's wave ; 
And o'er the alabaster roof there ran 
Rich inlayings of lotus and of bird. 



88 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Wrought in skilled work of lazulite and jade, 
Jacynth and jasper; woven round the dome, 
And down the sides, and all about the frames 
Wherein were set the fretted lattices. 
Through which there breathed, with moonlight and 

cool airs. 
Scents from the shell-flowers and the jasmine 

sprays ; 
Not bringing thither grace or tenderness 
Sweeter than shed from those fair presences 
Within the place — the beauteous S^kya Prince, 
And hers, the stately, bright Yasodhara. 

Half risen from her soft nest at his side. 
The chuddar fallen to her waist, her brow 
Laid in both palms, the lovely Princess leaned 
With heaving bosom and fast-falling tears. 
Thrice with her lips she touched Sidd^rtha's hand. 
And at the third kiss moaned : — " Awake, my Lord ! 
Give me the comfort of thy speech ! " Then he : — 
*'What is it with thee, O my life?'' but still 
She moaned anew before the words would come ; 
Then spake : — " Alas, my Prince ! I sank to sleep 
Most happy, for the babe I bear of thee 



BOOfv THE FOURTH. 89 

Quickened this eve, and at my heart there beat 
That double pulse of life and joy and love 
Whose happy music lulled me, but — aho ! — 
In slumber I beheld three sights of dread, 
With thought whereof my heart is throbbing yet. 
I saw a white bull with wide-branching horns, 
A lord of pastures, pacing through the streets, 
Bearing upon his front a gem v.'hich shone 
As if some star had dropped to glitter there, 
Or like the kantha-stone the great Snake keeps 
To make bright daylight underneath the earth. 
Slow through the streets towards the gates he 

paced, 
And none could stay him, though there came a 

voice 
From Indra's temple : — 'If ye stay him not, 
The glory of the city goeth forth.' 
Yet none could stay him. Then I wept aloud. 
And locked my arms about his neck, and strove, 
And bade them bar the "^ates ; but that ox-kins: 
Bellowed, and, lightly tossing free his crest. 
Broke from my clasp, and bursting through the 

bars. 
Trampled the warders down and passed away. 



90 THE LIGHT OF AST4. 

The next strange dream was this : Four Presences, 

Splendid, with shining eyes, so beautiful 

They seemed the Regents of the Earth who dwell 

On Mount Sumeru, lighting from the sky 

With retinue of countless heavenly ones, 

Swift swept unto our city, where I saw 

The golden flag of Indra on the gate 

Flutter and fall ; and lo ! there rose instead 

A glorious banner, all the folds whereof 

Rippled with flashing fire of rubies sewn 

Thick on the silver threads, the rays wherefrom 

Set forth new words and weighty sentences 

Whose message made all living creatures glad ; 

x\nd from the east the wind of sunrise blew 

With tender waft, opening those jewelled scrolls 

So that all flesh might read ; and wondrous 

blooms — 
Plucked in what clime I know not — fell in 

showers, 
Colored as none are colored in our groves." 

Then spake the Prince: — "All this, my Lotus- 
flower ! 
Was good to see." 



BOOK THE FOURTH. 9 1 

'*Ay, Lord," the Princess said, 
" Save that it ended with a voice of fear 
Crying : — ' The time is nigh ! the time is nigh ! ' 
Thereat the third dream came ; for when I sought 
Thy side, sweet Lord ! all, on our bed there lay 
An unpressed pillow and an empty robe — 
Nothing of thee but those ! nothing of thee, 
Who art my life and light, my king, my w^orld ! 
And, sleeping still, I rose, and sleeping saw 
Thy belt of pearls, tied here below my breasts, 
Change to a stinging snake ; my ankle-rings 
Fall off, my golden bangles part and fall ; 
The jasmines in my hair wither to dust ; 
While this our bridal-couch sank to the ground, 
And something rent the crimson purdah down : 
Then far away I heard the white bull low. 
And far away the embroidered banner flap, 
And once again that cry : — ' The time is come ! ' 
But with that cry — which shakes my spirit still — 
I woke ! O Prince ! what may such visions mean 
Except I die, or — worse than any death — 
Thou shouldst forsake me, or be taken ? '■• 

Soft 
As the last smile of sunset was the look 
Sidddrtha bent upon his weeping wife. 



92 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

"Comfort thee, dear!" he said, "if comfort hves 
In changeless love ! for though thy dreams may be 
Shadows of things to come, and though the gods 
Are shaken in their seats, and though the world 
Stands nigh, perchance, to know some way of help, 
Yet, whatsoever fall to thee and me. 
Be sure I loved and love Yasodhara. 
Thou knowest how I muse these many moons. 
Seeking to save the sad earth I have seen ; 
And when the time comes, that w^hich will be will. 
But if my soul yearns sore for souls unknown, 
And if I grieve for griefs which are not mine. 
Judge how my high-winged thoughts must hover 

here 
O'er all these lives that share and sweeten mine — 
So dear ! and thine the dearest, gentlest, best. 
And nearest. Ah, thou mother of my babe ! 
Whose body mixed with mine for this fair hope. 
When most my spirit wanders, ranging round 
The lands and seas — as full of ruth for men 
As the far-flying dove is full of ruth 
For her twin nestlings — ever it has come 
Home with glad wing and passionate plumes to thee, 
Who art the sweetness of my kind best seen, 



BOOK THE FOURTH, 93 

The utmost of their good, the tenderest 
Of all their tenderness, mine most of all. 
Therefore, whatever after this betide, 
Bethink thee of that lordly bull which lowed, 
That jewelled banner in thy dream which waved 
Its folds departing, and of this be sure. 
Always I loved and always love thee well, 
And what I sought for all sought most for thee. 
But thou, take comfort : and, if sorrow falls, 
Take comfort still in deeming there may be 
A way to peace on earth by woes of ours ; 
And have with this embrace what faithful love 
Can think of thanks or frame for benison — 
Too little, seeing love's strong self is weak — 
Yet kiss me on the mouth, and drink these words 
From heart to heart therewith, that thou mayst 

know — 
What others will not — that I loved thee most 
Because I loved so well all living souls. 
Now, Princess! rest; for I will rise and watch.*' 

Then in her tears she slept, but sleeping 
sighed — 
As if that vision passed again — "The time ! 



94 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

The time is come ! " Whereat Siddartha turned, 
And, lo ! the moon shone by the Crab ! the stars 
In that same silver order long foretold 
Stood ranged to say: — "This is the night! — 

choose thou 
The way of greatness or the way of good : 
To reign a King of kings, or wander lone, 
Crownless and homeless, that the world be helped." 
Moreover, with the whispers of the gloom, 
Came to his ears again that warning song. 
As when the Devas spoke upon the wind : 
And surely Gods were round about the place 
Watching our Lord, who watched the shining stars. 

" I will depart," he spake ; " the hour is come ! 
Thy tender lips, dear Sleeper, summon me 
To that which saves the earth but sunders us ; 
And in the silence of yon sky I read 
My fated message flashing. Unto this 
Came I, and unto this all nights and days 
Have led me ; for I will not have that crown 
Which may be mine : I lay aside those realms 
Which wait the gleaming of my naked sword : 
Mv chariot shall not roll with bloodv wheels 



BOOK THE FOURTH, 95 

From victory to victory, till earth 
Wears the red record of my name. I choose 
To tread its paths with patient, stainless feet, 
Making its dust my bed, its lonehest wastes 
My dwelling, and its meanest things my mates ; 
Clad in no prouder garb than outcasts wear. 
Fed with no meats save what the charitable 
Give of their will, sheltered by no more pomp 
Than the dim cave lends or the jungle-bush . 
This will I do because the woful cry 
Of life and all flesh living cometh up 
Into my ears, and all my soul is full 
Of pity for the sickness of this world ; 
Which I will heal, if healing may be found 
By uttermost renouncing and strong strife. 
For which of all the great and lesser Gods 
Have power or pity ? Who hath seen them — 

who ? 
What have they wrought to help their worshippers ? 
How hath it steaded man to pray, and pay 
Tithes of the corn and oil, to chant the charms. 
To slay the shrieking sacrifice, to rear 
The stately fane, to feed the priests, and call 
On Vishnu, Shiva, Surya, who save 



96 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

None — not the worthiest — from the griefs that 

teach 
Those litanies of flattery and fear 
Ascending day by day, Hke wasted smoke? 
Hath any of my brothers 'scaped thereby 
The aches of hfe, the stings of love and loss, 
The fiery fever and the ague-shake, 
The slow, dull, sinking into withered age, 
The horrible dark death — and what beyond 
Waits — till the whirling wheel comes up again, 
And new lives bring new sorrows to be borne. 
New generations for the new desires 
Which have their end in the old mockeries? 
Hath any of my tender sisters found 
Fruit of the fast or harvest of the hymn. 
Or bought one pang the less at bearing-time 
For white curds offered and trim tulsi-leaves ? 
Nay ; it may be some of the Gods are good 
And evil some, but all in action weak ; 
Both pitiful and pitiless, and both — 
As men are — bound upon this wheel of change, 
Knowing the former and the after lives. 
For so our scriptures truly seem to teach. 
That — once, and wheresoever and whence begun — 



BOOK THE FOURTH. 97 

Life runs its rounds of living, climbing up 

From mote, and gnat, and worm, reptile, and 

fish, 
Bird and shagged beast, man, demon, deva, 

God, 
To clod and mote again ; so are we kin 
To all that is ; and thus, if one might save 
Man from his curse, the whole wide world should 

share 
The lightened horror of this ignorance 
Whose shadow is chill fear, and cruelty 
Its bitter pastime. Yea, if one might save ! 
And means must be I There must be refuge ! 

Men 
Perished in winter-winds till one smote fire 
From flint-stones coldly hiding what they held, 
The red spark treasured from the kindling sun. 
They gorged on flesh like wolves, till one sowed 

corn. 
Which grew a weed, yet makes the life of man ; 
They mowed and babbled till some tongue struck 

speech. 
And patient fingers framed the lettered sound. 
What orood orift have mv brothers, but it came 



98 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

From search and strife and loving sacrifice? 

If one, then, being great and fortunate, 

Rich, dowered with health and ease, froin birtli 

designed 
To rule — if he would rule — a King of kings ; 
If one, not tired with lifers long day but glad 
r the freshness of its morning, one not cloyed 
With love's delicious feasts, but hungry still ; 
If one not worn and wrinkled, sadly sage, 
But joyous in the glory and the grace 
That mix with evils here, and free to choose 
Earth's loveliest at his will: one even as I, 
Who ache not, lack not, grieve not, save with 

griefs 
Which are not mine, except as I am man ; — 
If such a one, having so much to give. 
Gave all, laying it down for love of men. 
And thenceforth spent himself to search for truth, 
Wringing the secret of deliverance forth. 
Whether it lurk in hells or hide in heavens. 
Or hover, unrevealed, nigh unto all : 
Surely at last, far off, sometime, somewhere. 
The veil would lift for his deep-searching eyes, 
The road would open for his painful feet. 



BOOK THE FOURTH. 99 

That should be won for which he lost the world, 
And Death might find him conqueror of death. 
This will I do, who have a realm to lose. 
Because I love my realm, because my heart 
Beats with each throb of all the hearts that ache, 
Known and unknown, these that are mine and 

those 
Which shall be mine, a thousand million more 
Saved by this sacrifice I offer now. 
Oh, summoning stars ! I come ! Oh, mournful 

earth I 
For thee and thine I lay aside my youth, 
My throne, my joys, my golden days, my nights. 
My happy palace — and thine arms, sweet Queen! 
Harder to put aside than all the rest ! 
Yet thee, too, I shall save, saving this earth ; 
And that which stirs within thy tender womb. 
My child, the hidden blossom of our loves, 
Whom if I wait to bless my mind will fail. 
Wife ! child I father ! and people ! ye must 

share 
A little while the anguish of this hour 
That light may break and all flesh learn the Law. 
Now am I fixed, and now I will depart. 



lOO THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Never to come again, till what I seek 

Be found — if fervent search and strife avail.'' 

So, Avith his brow he touched lier feet, and bent 
The farewell of fond eyes, unutterable. 
Upon her sleeping face, still wet with tears ; 
And thrice around the bed in reverence, 
As though it were an altar, softly stepped 
With clasped hands laid upon his beating heart, 
"For never,'' spake he, "lie I there again!" 
And thrice he made to go, but thrice came back, 
So strong her beauty was, so large his love: 
Then, o'er his head drawing his cloth, he turned 
And raised the purdah's edge : 

There drooped, close-hushed, 
In such sealed sleep as water-lilies know, 
That lovely garden of his Indian girls ; 
The twin dark-petalled lotus-buds of all — 
Gunga and Gotami — on either side. 
And those, their silk-leaved sisterhood, beyond. 
"Pleasant ye are to me, sweet friends!" he said, 
"And dear to leave; yet, if I leave ye not, 
What else will come to all of us save eld 
Without assuage and death without avail? 




The Renunciation. 



BOOK THE FOURTH, lOl 

Lo I as ye lie asleep so must ye lie 
A-dead : and when the rose dies where are gone 
Its scent and splendor? when the lamp is drained 
Whither is fled the flame? Press heavy, Night! 
Upon their down-dropped lids, and seal their lips, 
That no tear stay me and no faithful voice. 
For all the brighter that these made my life, 
The bitterer it is that they and I, 
And all, should live as trees do — so much spring, 
Such and such rains and frosts, such winter-times, 
And then dead leaves, with maybe spring again. 
Or axe-stroke at the root. This will not I, 
Whose life here was a God's! — this would not I, 
Though all my days were godlike, while men moan 
Under their darkness. Therefore farewell, friends ! 
While life is good to give, I give, and go 
To seek deliverance and that unknown Light ! *" 

Then, lightly treading where those sleepers lay. 
Into the night Siddartha passed : its eyes, 
The watchful stars, looked love on him : its breath. 
The wandering wind, kissed his robe's fluttered 

fringe : 
The garden-blossoms, folded for the dawn, 



I02 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Opened their velvet hearts to waft him scents 

From pink and purple censers : o'er the land, 

From Himalay unto the Indian Sea, 

A tremor spread, as if earth's soul beneath 

Stirred with an unknown hope ; and holy books — 

Which tell the story of our Lord — say, too. 

That rich celestial musics thrilled the air 

From hosts on hosts of shining ones, who thronged 

Eastward and westward, making bright the night — 

Northward and southward, making glad the ground. 

Also those four dread Regents of the Earth, 

Descending at the doorway, two by two, — 

With their bright legions of Invisibles 

In arms of sapphire, silver, gold, and pearl — 

Watched with joined hands the Indian Prince who 

stood, 
-His tearful eyes raised to the stars, and lips 
Close-set with purpose of prodigious love. 

Then strode he forth into the gloom, and cried : — 
" Channa, awake! and bring out Kantaka ! " 
' ' What would my Lord ? '' the charioteer replied — 
Slow-rising from his place beside the gate — 
"To ride at night when all the ways are dark?" 



BOOK THE FOURTH, IO3 

"Speak low/' Siddartha said: "and l)nng my 
horse. 
For now the hour is come when I should quit 
This golden prison, where my heart lives caged, 
To find the truth ; which henceforth I will seek, 
For all men\s sake, until the truth be found/' 

"Alas ! dear Prince, "" answered the charioteer, 
" Spake then for naught those wise and holy men 
Who cast the stars, and bade us wait the time 
When King Suddh6dana"s great son should rule 
Realms upon realms, and be a Lord of lords? 
Wilt thou ride hence and let the rich world slip 
Out of thy grasp, to hold a beggar's bowl? 
Wilt thou go forth into the friendless waste 
That hast this Paradise of pleasures here ? '' 

The Prince made answer: — " Unto this I came, 
And not for thrones : the kingdom that I crave 
Is more than many realms — and all tilings pass 
To change and death. Bring me forth Kantaka ! '' 

"Most honored,'' spake again the charioteer, 
"Bethink thee of my Lord thy father's grief! 



I04 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Bethink thee of their woe whose bliss thou art — 
How shalt thou help them, first undoing them?" 
Siddartha answered: — "Friend, that love is false 
Which clings to love for selfish sweets of love ; 
But I, who love these more than joys of mine — 
Yea, more than joy of theirs — depart to save 
Them and all fiesh, if utmost love avail : 
Go, bring me Kantaka ! "' 

Then Channa said : — 
"Master, I go!" and forthwith, mournfully, 
Unto the stall he passed, and from the rack 
Took down the silver bit and bridle-chains, 
Breast-cord and curb, and knitted fast the straps. 
And linked the hooks, and led out Kantaka : 
Whom, tethering to the ring, he combed and 

dressed, 
Stroking the snowy coat to silken gloss ; 
Next on the steed he laid the numdah square, 
Fitted the saddle-cloth across, and set 
The saddle fair, drew tight the jewelled girths. 
Buckled the breech-bands and the martingale. 
And made fall both the stirrups of worked gold. 
Then over all he cast a golden net. 
With tassels of seed-pearl and silken strings, 



BOOK THE FOURTH. 105 

And led the great horse to the palace door. 
Where stood the Prince ; but when he saw his 

Lord, 
Right glad he waxed and joyously he neighed, 
Spreading his scarlet nostrils ; and the books 
Write: — ''Surely all had heard Kantaka's neigh, 
And that strong trampling of his iron heels, 
Save that the Devas laid soft unseen wings 
Over their ears, and kept the sleepers deaf." 

Fondly Siddartha drew the proud head down, 
Patted the shining neck, and said: — "Be still, 
White Kantaka ! be still, and bear me now 
The farthest journey ever rider rode : 
For this night take I horse to find the truth. 
And where my quest will end yet know I not. 
Save that it shall not end until I find. 
Therefore to-night, good steed, be fierce and bold ! 
Let nothing stay thee, though a thousand blades 
Deny the road ! let neither wall nor moat 
Forbid our flight I Look ! if I touch thy flank 
And cry : — ' On, Kantaka I " let whirlwinds lag 
Behind thy course ! Be fire and air, my horse ! 
To stead thy Lord ; so shalt thou share with him 



I06 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

The greatness of this deed which lielps the world ; 

For therefore ride I, not for men alone, 

But for all things which, speechless, share our 

pain 
And have no hope, nor wit to ask for hope. 
Now, therefore, bear thy master valorously ! " 

Then to the saddle lightly leaping, he 
Touched the arched crest, and Kantaka sprang 

forth 
With armed hoofs sparkling on the stones, and 

ring 
Of champing bit; but none did hear that sound. 
For that the Suddha Devas, gathering near, 
Plucked the red mohra-flowers and strewed them 

thick 
Under his tread, while hands invisible 
Muffled the ringing bit and bridle-chains. 
Moreover, it is written when they came 
Upon the pavement near the inner gates, 
The Yakshas of the air laid magic cloths 
Under the stallion's feet, so that he went 
Softly and still. 

But when they reached the gate 



BOOK THE FOURTH, lO/ 

Of tripled brass — which hardly fivescore men 
Served to unbar and open — lo I the doors 
Rolled back all silently, though one might hear 
In daytime two koss off the thunderous roar 
Of those grim hinges and unwieldy plates. 

Also the middle and the outer gates 
Unfolded each their monstrous portals thus 
In silence, as Siddirtha and his steed 
Drew near ; while underneath their shadows lay. 
Silent as dead men, all those chosen guards — 
The lance and sword let fall, the shields unbraced. 
Captains and soldiers — for there came a wind. 
Drowsier than blows o'er Malwa's fields of sleep, 
Before the Prince's path, which, being breathed, 
Lulled every sense aswoon : and so he passed 
Free from the palace. 

When the mornino^ star 
Stood half a spear's length from the eastern rim. 
And o'er the earth the breath of morning sighed. 
Rippling Anoma's wave, the border-stream. 
Then drew he rein, and leaped to earth, and 

kissed 
White Kantaka betwixt the ears, and spake 



I08 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Full sweet to Channa : — " This which thou hast 

done 
Shall bring thee good, and bring all creatures good : 
Be sure I love thee always for thy love. 
Lead back my horse, and take my crest-pearl here. 
My princely robes, which henceforth stead me not. 
My jewelled sword-belt and my sword, and these 
The long locks by its bright edge severed thus 
From off my brows. Give the King all, and say 
Siddartha prays forget him till he come 
Ten times a Prince, with royal wisdom won 
From lonely searchings and the strife for light ; 
Where, if I conquer, lo ! all earth is mine — 
Mine by chief service ! — tell him — mine by love ! 
Since there is hope for man only in man, 
And none hath sought for this as I will seek, 
Who cast away my world to save my world." 



BOOK THE FIFTH 



109, 



BOOK THE FIFTH, \ \ \ 



BOOK THE FIFTH, 



Round Rajagriha five fair hills arose, 

Guarding King Bimbisara's sylvan town : 

Baibhara, green with lemon-grass and palms ; 

Bipulla, at whose foot thin Sarsuti 

Steals with warm ripple : shadowy Tapovan, 

Whose steaming pools mirror black rocks, which 

ooze 
Sovereign earth-butter from their rugged roofs ; 
South-east the vulture-peak Sailagiri ; 
And eastward Ratnagiri, hill of gems. 
A winding track, paven with footworn slabs, 
Leads thee, by safiflower fields and bamboo tufts, 
Under dark mangoes and the jujube- trees. 
Past milk-white veins of rock and jasper crags, 
Low cliff and flats of jungle-flowers, to where 
The shoulder of that mountain, sloping west, 
Overhangs a cave with wild figs canopied. 
Lo I thou who comest thither, bare thy feet 



112 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And bow thy head I for all this spacious earth 
Hath not a spot more dear and hallowed. Here 
Lord Buddha sat the scorching summers through, 
The driving rains, the chilly dawns and eves ; 
Wearing for all men's sakes the yellow robe. 
Eating in beggar's guise the scanty meal 
Chance 'gathered from the charitable ; at night 
Couched on the grass, homeless, alone ; while 

yelped 
The sleepless jackals round his cave, or coughs 
Of famished tiger from the thicket broke. 
By day and night here dwelt the World-honored, 
Subduing that fair body born for bliss 
With fast and frequent watch and search intense 
Of silent meditation, so prolonged 
That ofttimes while he mused — as motionless 
As the fixed rock his seat — the squirrel leaped 
Upon his knee, the timid quail led forth 
Her brood between his feet, and blue doves pecked 
The rice-grains from the bowl beside his hand. 

Thus would he muse from noontide — when the 
land 
Shimmered with heat, and walls and temples danced 



BOOK THE FIFTH. II3 

In the reeking air — till sunset, noting not 
The blazing globe roll clown, nor evening glide, 
Purple and swift, across the softened fields ; 
Nor the still coming of the stars, nor throb 
Of drum-skins in the busy town, nor screech 
Of owl and night-jar; wholly wrapt from self 
In keen unravelling of the threads of thought 
And steadfast pacing of life's labyrinths. 
Thus w^ould he sit till midnight hushed the world, 
Save where the beasts of darkness in the brake 
Crept and cried out, as fear and hatred cry, 
As lust and avarice and anger creep 
In the black jungles of man's ignorance. 
Then slept he for what space the fleet moon asks 
To swim a tenth part of her cloudy sea ; 
But rose ere the False-dawn, and stood again 
Wistful on some dark platform of his hill, 
Watching the sleeping earth with ardent eyes 
And thoughts embracing all its living things ; 
While o'er the waving fields that murmur moved 
Which is the kiss of Morn waking the lands, 
And in the east that miracle of Day 
Gathered and grew. At first a dusk so dim 
Xight seems still unaware of whispered dawn. 



114 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

But soon — before the jungle-cock crows twice — 
A white verge clear, a widening, brightening white. 
High as the herald-star, which fades in floods 
Of silver, warming into pale gold, caught 
By topmost clouds, and flaming on their rims 
To fervent golden glow, flushed from the brink 
With saffron, scarlet, crimson, amethyst ; 
Whereat the sky burns splendid to the blue. 
And, robed in raiment of glad light, the King • 
Of Life and Glory cometh ! 

Then our Lord, 
After the manner of a Rishi, hailed 
The rising orb, and went — ablutions made — 
Down by the winding path unto the town ; 
And in the fashion of a Rishi passed 
From street to street, with begging-bowl in hand, 
Gathering the little pittance of his needs. 
Soon was it filled, for all the townsmen cried : — 
"Take of our store, great sir!" and "Take of 

ours ! " 
Marking his godlike face and eyes enwrapt ; 
And mothers, when they saw our Lord go by, 
Would bid their children fall to kiss his feet. 
And lift his robe's hem to their brows, or run 



BOOK THE FIFTH, I i 5 

To fill his jar, and fetch him milk and cakes. 
And ofttimes as he paced, gentle and slow, 
Radiant with heavenly pity, lost in care 
For those he knew not, save as fellow-lives, 
The dark surprised eyes of some Indian maid 
Would dwell in sudden love and worship deep 
On that majestic form, as if she saw 
Her dreams of tenderest thought made true, and 

grace 
Fairer than mortal fire her breast. But he 
Passed onward with the bowl and yellow robe, 
By mild speecli paying all those gifts of hearts, 
Wending his way back to the solitudes 
To sit upon his liill with holy men. 
And hear and ask of wisdom and its roads. 

Midway on Ratnagiri's groves of calm. 
Beyond the city, but below the caves. 
Lodged such as hold the body foe to soul. 
And flesh a beast which men must chain and tame 
With bitter pains, till sense of pain is killed. 
And tortured nerves vex torturer no more : 
Yogis and Brahmacharis, Bhikshus, all 
A gaunt and mournful band, dwelling apart. 



Il6 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Some day and night had stood with lifted arms, 
Till — drained of blood and withered by disease — 
Their slowly wasting joints and stififened limbs 
Jutted from sapless shoulders like dead forks 
From forest trunks. Others had clenched their 

hands 
So long and with so fierce a fortitude, 
The claw-like nails grew through the festered palm. 
Some walked on sandals spiked ; some with sharp 

flints 
Gashed breast and brow and thigh, scarred these 

with fire, 
Threaded their flesh with jungle thorns and spits, 
Besmeared with mud and ashes, crouching foul 
In rags of dead men wrapped about their loins. 
Certain there were inhabited the spots 
Where death-pyres smouldered, cowering defiled 
With corpses for their company, and kites 
Screaming around them o'er the funeral-spoils : 
Certain who cried five hundred times a day 
The names of Shiva, knit with hissing snakes 
About their sun-tanned necks and hollow flanks, 
One palsied foot drawn up against the ham. 
So gathered they, a grievous company ; 



BOOK THE FIFTH. 11/ 

Crowns blistered by the blazing heat, eyes bleared, 

Sinews and muscles shrivelled, visages 

Haggard and wan as slain men's, five days dead ; 

Here crouched one in the dust who noon by noon 

Meted a thousand grains of millet out, 

Ate it with famished patience, seed by seed, 

And so stan^ed on : there one who bruised his 

pulse 
With bitter leaves lest palate should be pleased ; 
And next, a miserable saint self-maimed, 
Eyeless and tongueless, sexless, crippled, deaf; 
The body by the mind being thus stripped 
For glory of much suffering, and the bliss 
Which they shall win — say holy books — whose 

woe 
Shames gods that send us woe, and makes men 

gods 
Stronger to suffer than Hell is to harm. 

Whom sadly eying spake our Lord to one. 
Chief of the woe-begones : — " Much-suifering sir I 
These many moons I dwell upon the hill — 
Who am a seeker of the Truth — and see 
My brothers here, and thee, so piteously 



Il8 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Self-anguished ; wherefore add ye ills to life 
Which is so evil?" 

Answer made the sage : — 
* ' 'Tis written if a man shall mortify 
His flesh, till pain be grown the life he lives 
And death voluptuous rest, such woes shall purge 
Sin's dross away, and the soul, purified, 
Soar from the furnace of its sorrow, winged 
For glorious spheres and splendor past all thought." 

" Yon cloud which floats in heaven," the Prince 
replied, 
'* Wreathed like gold cloth around your Indra's 

throne. 
Rose thither from the tempest-driven sea ; 
But it must fall again in tearful drops, 
Trickling through rough and painful water-ways 
By cleft and nullah and the muddy flood, 
To Gunga and the sea, wherefrom it sprang. 
Know'st thou, my brother, if it be not thus, 
After their many pains, with saints in bliss? 
Since that which rises falls, and that which buys 
Is spent ; and if ye buy heav'n with your blood 
In hell's hard market, when the bargain's through 
The toil begins again ! " 



BOOK THE FIFTH, II9 

" It may begin," 
The hermit moaned. " Alas I we know not this, 
Nor surely anything : yet after night 
Day comes, and after turmoil peace, and we 
Hate this accursed flesh which clogs the soul 
That fain would rise ; so, for the sake of soul, 
We stake brief agonies in game with Gods 
To gain the larger joys." 

' ' Yet if they last 
A myriad years," he said, "they fade at length, 
Those joys ; or if not, is there then some life 
Below, above, beyond, so unlike life 
It will not change? Speak! do your Gods endure 
For ever, brothers?" 

" Nay," the Yogis said, 
"Only great Brahm endures: the Gods but live." 

Then spake Lord Buddha: — "Will ye, being 

wise. 
As ye seem holy and strong-hearted ones, 
Throw these sore dice, which are your groans and 

moans, 
For gains which may be dreams, and must have 

end? 



I 20 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Will ye, for love of soul, so loathe your flesh, 

So scourge and maim it, that it shall not serve 

To bear the spirit on, searching for home. 

But founder on the track before night-fall, 

Like willing steed o'er-spurred ? Will ye, sad 

sirs ! 
Dismantle and dismember this fair house, 
Where we have come to dwell by painful pasts ; 
Whose windows give us light — the little light — 
Whereby we gaze abroad to know if dawn 
Will break, and whither winds the better road ? " 

Then cried they : — " We have chosen this for 
road 
And tread it, Rajaputra ! till the close — 
Though all its stones were fire — in trust of death. 
Speak, if thou know'st a way more excellent ; 
If not, peace go with thee ! '' 

Onward he passed. 
Exceeding sorrowful, seeing how men 
Fear so to die they are afraid to fear, 
Lust so to live they dare not love their life, 
But plague it with fierce penances, belike 
To please the Gods who grudge pleasure to man ; 



BOOK THE FIFTH. 121 

Belike to balk hell bv self-kindled hells; 



Belike in holy madness, hoping soul 
May break the better through their wasted flesh. 
"Oh, flowerets of the field I *' Siddartha said, 
"Who turn your tender faces to the sun — 
Glad of the light, and grateful with sweet breath 
Of fragrance and these robes of reverence donned 
Silver and gold and purple — none of ye 
Miss perfect living, none of ye despoil 
Your happy beauty. Oh, ye palms I w^iich rise 
Eager to pierce the sky and drink the wind 
Blown from Malaya and the cool blue seas. 
What secret know ye that ye grow^ content. 
From time of tender shoot to time of fruit. 
Murmuring such sun-songs from your feathered 

crowns ? 
Ye, too, who dwell so merry in the trees — 
Quick-darting parrots, bee-birds, bulbuls, doves — 
None of ye hate your life, none of ye deem 
To strain to better by foregoing needs ! 
But man, who slays ye — being lord — is wise. 
And wisdom, nursed on blood, cometh thus forth 
In self-tormentings I " 

While the Master spake 



122 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Blew down the mount the dust of pattering feet, 
White goats and black sheep winding slow their 

way, 
With many a lingering nibble at the tufts. 
And wanderings from the path, where water gleamed 
Or wild figs hung. But always as they strayed 
The herdsman cried, or slung his sling, and kept 
The silly crowd still moving to the plain. 
A ewe with couplets in the flock there was, 
Some hurt had lamed one lamb, w^hich toiled 

behind 
Bleeding, w^hile in front its fellow skipped, 
And the vexed dam hither and thither ran, 
Fearful to lose this little one or that; 
Which when our Lord did mark, full tenderly 
He took the limping lamb upon his neck, 
Saying : — " Poor woolly mother, be at peace ! 
Whither thou goest I will bear thy care ; 
'Twere all as good to ease one beast of grief 
As sit and watch the sorrows of the world 
In yonder caverns with the priests who pray." 
"But,'' spake he to the herdsmen, "wherefore, 

friends ! 
Drive ye the flocks adown under high noon, 



BOOK THE FIFTH. 123 

Since 'tis at evening that men fold their sheep ? " 
And answer gave the peasants : — " We are sent 
To fetch a sacrifice of goats five-score. 
And five-score sheep, the which our Lord the 

King 
Slayeth this night in worship of his gods.'^ 
Then said the Master : — "I v/ill also go ! " 
So paced he patiently, bearing the lamb 
Beside the herdsmen in the dust and sun, 
The wistful ewe low bleating at his feet. 

Whom, when they came unto the river-side 
A woman — dove-eyed, young, with tearful face 
And lifted hands — saluted, bending low : — 
" Lord I thou art he," she said, "who yesterday 
Had pity on me in the fig-grove here. 
Where I live lone and reared my child ; but he 
Straying amid the blossoms found a snake, 
Which twined about his wrist, whilst he did laugh 
And tease the quick-forked tongue and opened 

mouth 
Of that cold playmate. But, alas ! ere long 
He turned so pale and still, 1 could not think 
Why he should cease to play, and let my breast 



124 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Fall from his lips. And one said : — ' He is sick 
Of poison ; ' and another : — 'He will die.' 
But I, who could not lose my precious boy, 
Prayed of them physic, which might bring the 

light 
Back to his eyes ; it was so very small 
That kiss-mark of the serpent, and I think 
It could not hate him, gracious as he was, 
Nor hurt him in his sport. And some one said : — 
' There is a holy man upon the hill — 
Lo ! now he passeth in the yellow robe — 
Ask of the Rishi if there be a cure 
For that which ails thy son.' Whereon I came 
Trembling to thee, whose brow is like a god's, 
And wept and drew the face-cloth from my babe, 
Praying thee tell what simples might be good. 
And thou, great sir ! didst spurn me not, but gaze 
With gentle eyes and touch with patient hand ; 
Then draw the face-cloth back, saying to me : — 
' Yea ! little sister, there is that might heal 
Thee first, and him, if thou couldst fetch the 

thing ; 
For they who seek physicians bring to them 
What is ordained. Therefore, I pray thee, find 



BOOK THE FIFTH. 1 25 

Black mustard- seed, a tola ; only mark 
Thou take it not from any hand or house 
Where father, mother, child, or slave hath died : 
It shall be well if thou canst find such seed.' 
Thus didst thou speak, my Lord ! '^ 

The Master smiled 
Exceeding tenderly. "Yea! I spake thus, 
Dear Kisagotami I But didst thou find 
The seed?'^ 

" I went. Lord, clasping to my breast 
The babe, grown colder, asking at each hut — 
Here in the jungle and towards the town — 
' I pray you, give me mustard, of your grace, 
A tola — black;' and each who had it gave, 
For all the poor are piteous to the poor ; 
But when I asked : — 'In my friend's household 

here 
Hath any peradventure ever died — 
Husband, or wife, or child, or slave?' they said: — 
'O Sister! what is this you ask? the dead 
Are very many, and the living few ! '^ 
So with sad thanks 1 gave the mustard back, 
And prayed of others ; but the others said : — 
' Here is the seed, but we have lost our slave ! ' 



126 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

' Here is the seed, but our good man is dead ! ' 
' Here is some seed, but he that sowed it died 
Between the rain-time and the harvesting I ' 
Ah, sir ! I could not find a single house 
Where there was mustard-seed and none had died ; 
Therefore I left my child — who would not suck 
Nor smile — beneath the wild- vines by the stream, 
To seek thy face and kiss thy feet, and pray 
Where I might find this seed and find no death, 
If now, indeed, my baby be not dead. 
As I do fear, and as they said to me." 

"My sister! thou hast found," the Master said, 
"Searching for what none finds — that bitter balm 
I had to give thee. He thou lovedst slept 
Dead on thy bosom yesterday : to-day 
Thou know^st the whole wide world weeps with thy 

woe : 
The grief which all hearts share grows less for 

one. 
Lo I I would pour my blood if it could stay 
Thy tears and win the secret of that curse 
Which makes sweet love our anguish, and which 

drives — 



BOOK THE FIFTH, 12/ 

O'er flowers and pastures to the sacrifice — 

As these dumb beasts are driven — men their lords. 

I seek that secret : bury thou thy child ! " 

So entered they the city side by side, 
The herdsmen and tlie Prince, what time the sun 
Gilded slow Sona's distant stream, and threw 
Long shadows down the street and through the 

gate 
Where the King's men kept watch. But when these 

saw 
Our Lord bearing the lamb, the guards stood back, 
The market-people drew their wains aside, 
In the bazaar buyers and sellers stayed 
The war of tongues to gaze on that mild face ; 
The smith, with lifted hammer in his hand, 
Forgot to strike ; the weaver left his web. 
The scribe his scroll, the money-changer lost 
His count of cowries ; from the unwatched rice 
Shiva's white bull fed free ; the wasted milk 
Ran o'er the lota while the milkers watched 
The passage of our Lord moving so meek, 
With yet so beautiful a majesty. 
But most the women ofatherinof in the doors 



128 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Asked: — "Who is this that brings the sacrifice 
So graceful and peace-giving as he goes? 
What is his caste? whence hath he eyes so sweet? 
Can he be Sakra or the Devaraj ? '' 
And others said: — "It is the holy man 
Who dwelleth with the Rishis on the hill." 
But the Lord paced, in meditation lost, 
Thinking: — "Alas! for all my sheep which have 
No shepherd ; wandering in the night with none 
To guide them ; bleating bhndly towards the knife 
Of Death, as these dumb beasts which are their 
kin." 

Then some one told the King : — " There 
Cometh here 
A holy hermit, bringing down the flock 
Which thou didst bid to crown thy sacrifice." 

The King stood in his hall of offering. 
On either hand the white-robed Brahmans ranged 
Muttered their mantras, feeding still the fire 
Which roared upon the midmost altar. There 
From scented woods flickered bright tongues of- 
flame. 



BOOK THE FIFTH, 1 29 

Hissing and curling as they licked the gifts 

Of ghee and spices and the Soma juice, 

The joy of Indra. Round about the pile 

A slow, thick, scarlet streamlet smoked and ran, 

Sucked by the sand, but ever rolHng down. 

The blood of bleating victims. One such lay, 

A spotted goat, long-horned, its head bound back 

With munja grass ; at its stretched throat the knife 

Pressed by a priest, who murmured: — "This, 

dread gods, 
Of many yajnas cometh as the crown 
From Bimbis^ra : take ye joy to see 
The spirted blood, and pleasure in the scent 
Of rich flesh roasting mid the fragrant flames ; 
Let the King's sins be laid upon this goat, 
And let the fire consume them burning it. 
For now I strike.'' 

But Buddha softly said, 
"Let him not strike, great King!" and therewith 

loosed 
The victim's bonds, none staying him, so great 
His presence was. Then, craving leave, he spake 
Of life, which all can take but none can give. 
Life, which ail creatures love and strive to keep, 



I30 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Wonderful, clear, and pleasant unto each, 

Even to the meanest ; yea, a boon to all 

Where pity is, for pity makes the world 

Soft to the weak and noble for the strong. 

Unto the dumb lips of his flock he lent 

Sad pleading words, showing how man, who 

prays 
For mercy to the gods, is merciless. 
Being as god to those ; albeit all life 
Is linked and kin, and what we slay have given 
Meek tribute of the milk and wool, and set 
Fast trust upon the hands which murder them. 
Also he spake of what the holy books 
Do surely teach, how that at death some sink 
To bird and beast, and these rise up to man 
In wanderings of the spark which grows purged 

flame. 
So were the sacrifice new sin, if so 
The fated passage of a soul be stayed. 
Nor, spake he, shall one wash his spirit clean 
By blood ; nor gladden gods, being good, with 

blood ; 
Nor bribe them, being evil ; nay, nor lay 
Upon the brow of innocent l:>ound beasts 



BOOK THE FIFTH, 131 

One hair's weight of that answer all must give 

For all things done amiss or wrongfully, 

Alone, each for himself, reckoning with that 

The fixed arithmic of the universe, 

Which meteth good for good and ill for ill, 

Measure for measure, unto deeds, words, thoughts ; 

Watchful, aware, implacable, unmoved ; 

Making all futures fruits of all the pasts. 

Thus spake he, breathing words so piteous, 

With such high lordliness of ruth and right. 

The priests drew down their garments o'er the 

hands 
Crimsoned with slaughter, and the King came near. 
Standing with clasped palms reverencing Buddh ; 
While still our Lord went on, teaching how fair 
This earth were if all living things be linked 
In friendliness and common use of foods. 
Bloodless and pure ; the golden grain, bright fruits. 
Sweet herbs which grow for all, the waters wan. 
Sufficient drinks and meats. Which when these 

heard, 
The might of gentleness so conquered them. 
The priests themselves scattered their altar-flames 
And flung away the steel of sacrifice ; 



132 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And through the land next day passed a decree 

Proclaimed by criers, and in this wise graved 

On rock and column : — " Thus the King\s will 

is : — 
There hath been slaughter for the sacrifice 
And slaying for the meat, but henceforth none 
Shall spill the blood of life nor taste of flesh. 
Seeing that knowledge grows, and life is one. 
And mercy cometh to the merciful/^ 
So ran the edict, and from those days forth 
Sweet peace hath spread between all living kind, 
Man and the beasts which serve him, and the 

birds. 
On all those banks of Gunga where our Lord 
Taught with his saintly pity and soft speech. 

For aye so piteous was the Master's heart 
To all that breathe this breath of fleeting life, 
Yoked in one fellowship of joys and pains, 
That it is written in the holy books 
How, in an ancient age — when Buddha wore 
A Brahman's form, dw^elling upon the rock 
Named Munda, by the village of Dalidd — 
Drought withered all the land : the young rice died 



BOOK THE FIFTH, I 33 

Ere it could hide a quail : in forest glades 

A fierce sun sucked the pools ; grasses and herbs 

Sickened, and all the woodland creatures fled 

Scattering for sustenance. At such a time, 

Between the hot walls of a nullah, stretched 

On naked stones, our Lord spied, as he passed, 

A starving tigress. Hunger in her orbs 

Glared with green flame ; her dry tongue lolled a 

span 
Behind the gasping jaws and shrivelled jowl : 
Her painted hide hung wrinkled on her ribs, 
As when between the rafters sinks a thatch 
Rotten with rains ; and at the poor lean dugs 
Two cubs, whining with famine, tugged and 

sucked, 
^Mumbling those milkless teats which rendered 

naught ; 
While she, their gaunt dam, licked full motherly 
The clamorous twins, and gave her flank to them 
With moaning throat, and love stronger than 

want, 
Softening the first of that wild cry wherewith 
She laid her famished muzzle to the sand 
And roared a savage thunder-peal of woe. 



134 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Seeing which bitter strait, and heeding naught 

Save the immense compassion of a Buddh, 

Our Lord bethought : — " There is no other way 

To help this murderess of the woods but one. 

By sunset these will die, having no meat : 

There is no living heart will pity her, 

Bloody with ravin, lean for lack of blood. 

Lo ! if I feed her, who shall lose but I, 

And how can love lose doing of its kind 

Even to the uttermost ? " So saying, Buddh 

Silently laid aside sandals and staff. 

His sacred thread, turban, and cloth, and came 

Forth from behind the milk-bush on the sand. 

Saying: — ''Ho! mother, here is meat for thee ! ^^ 

Whereat the perishing beast yelped hoarse and 

shrill. 
Sprang from her cubs, and, hurling to the earth 
That willing victim, had her feast of him 
With all the crooked daggers of her claws 
Rending: his flesh, and all her vellow fang^s 
Bathed in his blood : the great cat's burning 

breath 
Mixed with the last sio:h of such fearless love. 



BOOK THE FIFTH, 1 35 

Thus large the Masters heart was long ago, 
Not only now, when with his gracious ruth 
He bade cease cruel worship of the Gods. 
And much King Bimbis^ra prayed our Lord — 
Learnino: his roval birth and holv search — 
To tarry in that city, saying oft : — 
' ' Thy princely state may not abide such fasts ; 
Thy hands were made for sceptres, not for alms. 
Sojourn with me, who have no son to rule, 
And teach my kingdom wisdom, till I die, 
Lodged in my palace with a beauteous bride." 
But ever spake Siddartha, of set mind : — 
"These things I had, most noble King, and 

left, 
Seeking the truth ; which still I seek, and shall ; 
Not to be stayed though S^kra's palace oped 
Its doors of pearl and Devis wooed me in. 
I go to build the Kingdom of the Law, 
Journeying to Gaya and tlie forest shades. 
Where, as I think, the light will come to me ; 
For nowise here among the Rishis comes 
That light, nor from the Shasters, nor from fasts 
Borne till the body faints, starved by the soul. 
Yet there is light to reach and truth to win ; 



136 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

And surely, O true Friend, if I attain 
I will return and quit thy love." 

Thereat 
Thrice round the Prince King Bimbisara paced. 
Reverently bending to the Master's feet. 
And bade him speed. So passed our Lord away 
Towards Uravilva, not yet comforted. 
And wan of face, and weak with six years' quest. 
But they upon the hill and in the grove — 
Alara, Udra, and the ascetics five — 
Had stayed him, saying all was written clear 
In holy Shasters, and that none might win 
Higher than Sruti and than Sviriti — nay, 
Not the chief saints ! — for how should mortal 

man 
Be wiser than the Jnana-K^nd, which tells 
That Brahm is bodiless and actionless. 
Passionless, calm, unqualified, unchanged, 
Pure hfe, pure thought, pure joy? Or how 

should man 
Be better than the Karmma-Kand, which shows 
How he may strip passion and action off. 
Break from the bond of self, and so, unsphered, 
Be God, and melt into the vast divine ; 



BOOK THE FIFTH. 1 37 

Flying from false to true, from wars of sense 
To peace eternal, where the Silence lives? 

But the Prince heard them, not yet comforted. 



BOOK THE SIXTH 



(139) 



BOOK THE SIXTH. 1 41 



BOOK THE SIXTH 



Thou, who wouldst see where dawned the Hght at 

last, 
North-westwards from the ' • Thousand Gardens *' zo 
By Gunga's valley till thy steps be set 
On the o:reen hills where those twin streamlets 



Nilajan and Mohana: follow them. 

Winding beneath broad-leaved mahua-trees, 

Mid thickets of the sansar and the bir. 

Till on the plain the shining sisters meet 

In Phalgu's bed, flowing by rocky banks 

To Gaya and the red Barabar hills. 

Hard by that river spreads a thorny waste, 

Uruwelaya named in ancient days, 

With sandhills broken : on its verge a wood 

Waves sea-green plumes and tassels thwart the sky, 

With undergrowth wherethrough a still flood steals. 

Dappled with lotus-blossoms, blue and white. 

And peopled with quick fish and tortoises. 



142 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Near it the village of Sen^ni reared 

Its roofs of grass, nestled amid the palms, 

Peaceful with simple folk and pastoral toils. 

There in the sylvan solitudes once more 
Lord Buddha lived, musing the woes of men, 
The ways of fate, the doctrines of the books, 
The lessons of the creatures of the brake, 
The secrets of the silence whence all come, 
The secrets of the gloom whereto all go, 
The life which Hes between, like that arch flung 
From cloud to cloud across the sky, which hath 
Mists for its masonry and vapory piers. 
Melting to void again which was so fair 
With sapphire hues, garnet, and chrysoprase. 
Moon after moon our Lord sat in the wood, 
So meditating these that he forgot 
Ofttimes the hour of food, rising from thoughts 
Prolonged beyond the sunrise and the noon. 
To see his bowl unfilled, and eat perforce 
Of wild fruit fallen from the boughs overhead. 
Shaken to earth by chattering ape or plucked 
By purple parokeet. Therefore his grace 
Faded ; his body, worn by stress of soul, 



BOOK THE SIXTH. 1 43 

Lost day b}^ day the marks, thirty and two, 
Which testify the Buddha. Scarce that leaf, 
Fhittering so dry and withered to his feet 
From off the sal-branch, bore less likeliness 
Of spring's soft greenery than he of him 
Who was the princely flower of all his land. 

And once, at such a time, the overwrought 
Prince 
Fell to the earth in deadly swoon, all spent. 
Even as one slain, who hath no longer breath 
Nor any stir of blood ; so wan he was, 
So motionless. But there came by that way 
A shepherd-boy, who saw Siddartha lie 
With lids fast-closed, and lines of nameless pain 
Fixed on his lips — the fiery noonday sun 
Beating upon his head — who, plucking boughs 
From wild rose-apple trees, knitted them thick 
Into a bower to shade the sacred face. 
Also he poured upon the Master's lips 
Drops of warm milk, pressed from his she-goat\s 

bag, 
Lest, being low caste, he, by touching, wrong one 
So high and holy seeming. But the books 



144 T^^ LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Tell how the jambu-branches, planted thus, 
Shot with quick life, in wealth of leaf and flower, 
And glowing fruitage interlaced and close, 
So that the bower grew like a tent of silk 
Pitched for a king at hunting, decked with studs 
Of silver-work and bosses of red gold. 
And the boy worshipped, deeming him some God ; 
But our Lord gaining breath, arose and asked 
Milk in the shepherd's lota. " Ah, my Lord, 
I cannot give thee," quoth the lad; ^' thou seest 
I am a Sudra, and my touch defiles I " 
Then the World-honored spake : — " Pity and need 
Make all flesh kin. There is no caste in blood, 
Which runneth of one hue, nor caste in tears. 
Which trickle salt with all ; neither comes man 
To birth with tilka-mark stamped on the brow. 
Nor sacred thread on neck. Who doth right deed 
Is twice-born, and who doeth ill deeds vile. 
Give me to drink, my brother ; when I come 
Unto my quest it shall be good for thee.'' 
Thereat the peasant's heart was glad, and gave. 

And on another day there passed that road 
A band of tinselled girls, the nautch-dancers 



BOOK THE SIXTH. 1 45 

Of Indra^s temple in the town, with those 
Who made their music — one that beat a drum 
Set round with peacock-feathers, one that blew 
The piping bansuli, and one that twitched 
A three-string sitar. Lightly tripped they down 
From ledge to ledge and through the chequered 

paths 
To some gay festival, the silver bells 
Chiming soft peals about the small brown feet, 
Armlets and wrist-rings tattling answer shrill ; 
While he that bore the sitar thrummed and twanged 
His threads of brass, and she beside him sang : — 

** Fair goes the dancing when the sitar' s timed ; 
Tune 2LS the sitar neither low nor high. 
And we zvill dance away the hearts of nten. 

" The string o'^er stretched breaks, and the music flies; 
The stri?ig o'er slack is dujnb, and jmisic dies ; 
Tune us the sitar 7ieither low nor high.^' 

So sang the nautch-girl to the pipes and wires, 
Fluttering like some vain, painted butterfly 
From glade to glade along the forest path, 



146 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Nor dreamed her light words echoed on the ear 
Of him, that holy man, who sat so rapt 
Under the iig-tree by the path. But Buddh 
Lifted his great brow as the wantons passed, 
And spake : — " The foohsh ofttimes teach the wis( 
I strain too much this string of life, belike. 
Meaning to make such music as shall save. 
Mine eyes are dim now that they see the truth, 
My strength is waned now that my need is mos 
Would that I had such help as man must have, 
For I shall die, whose life was all men's hope.^' 

Now, by that river dwelt a landholder 
Pious and rich, master of many herds, 
A goodly chief, the friend of all the poor ; 
And from his house the village drew its name — 
" Senani." Pleasant and in peace he lived. 
Having for wife Sujata, loveliest 
Of all the dark-eyed daughters of the plain ; 
Gentle and true, simple and kind was she, 
Noble of mien, with gracious speech to all 
And gladsome looks — a pearl of womanhood — 
Passing calm years of household happiness 
Beside her lord in that still Indian home. 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 1 47 

ave that no male child blessed their wedded love, 
therefore, with many prayers she had besought 
ukshmi : and many nights at full-moon gone 
.ound the great Lingam, nine times nine, with 

gifts 
f rice and jasmine wreaths and sandal oil 
raying a boy; also Sujata vowed — 
" this should be — an offering of food 
nto the Wood-God, plenteous, delicate, 
et in a bowl of gold under his tree, 
uch as the lips of Devs may taste and take, 
nd this had been : for there was born to her 
beauteous boy, now three months old, who lay 
etween Sujita's breasts, while she did pace 
/"ith grateful footsteps to the Wood-God's shrine 
ne arm clasping her crimson sari close 
o wrap the babe, that jewel of her joys, 
he other lifted high in comely curve 
b steady on her head the bowl and dish 
t^hich held the dainty victuals for the God. 

But Radha, sent before to sw^eep the ground 
.nd tie the scarlet threads around the tree, 
ame eager, crying: — "Ah, dear Mistress! look. 



148 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

There is the Wood-God sitting in his place, 
Revealed, with folded hands upon his knees. 
See how the light shines round about his brow ! 
How mild and great he seems, with heaven 

eyes ! 
Good fortune is it thus to meet the gods." 

So, — thinking him divine, — Suj^ta drew 
Tremblingly nigh, and kissed the earth and saic 
With sweet face bent : — * * Would that the Ho 

One 
Inhabiting this grove, Giver of good, 
Merciful unto me his handmaiden, 
Vouchsafing now his presence, might accept 
These our poor gifts of snowy curds, fresh made 
With milk as white as new-carved ivory ! " 

Therewith into the golden bowl she poured 
The curds and milk, and on the hands of Budd 
Dropped attar from a crystal flask — distilled 
Out of the hearts of roses : and he ate, 
Speaking no word, while the glad mother stood 
In reverence apart. But of that meal 
So wondrous was the virtue that our Lord 



• BOOK THE SIXTH. 1 49 

Felt strength and life return as though the nights 
Of watching and the days of fast had passed 
In dream, as though the spirit with the flesh 
Shared that fine meat and plumed its wings anew, 
Like some delighted bird at sudden streams 
Weary with flight o'er endless wastes of sand, 
Which laves the desert dust from neck and crest. 
And more Suj^ta worshipped, seeing our Lord 
Grow fairer and his countenance more bright : 
"Art thou indeed the God ?" she lowly asked, 
' ' And hath my gift found favor ? " 

But Buddh said: — 
' ' What is it thou dost bring me ? '* 

"Holy One!" 
Answered Suj^ta, " from our droves I took 
Milk of a hundred mothers, newly-calved. 
And with that milk I fed fifty white cows. 
And with their milk twenty-and-five, and then 
With theirs twelve more, and yet again with theirs 
The six noblest and best of all our herds. 
That yield I boiled with sandal and fine spice 
In silver lotas, adding rice, well grown 
From chosen seed, set in new-broken sfround, 
So picked that every grain was like a pearl. 



150 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

This did I of true heart, because I vowed 
Under thy tree, if I should bear a boy 
I would make offering for my joy, and now 
I have my son, and all my life is bliss ! " 

Softly our Lord drew down the crimson fold, 
And, laying on the little head those hands 
Which help the words, he said: — "Long be thy 

bliss ! 
And lightly fall on him the load of life ! 
For thou hast holpen me who am no God, 
But one, thy Brother; heretofore a Prince 
And now a wanderer, seeking night and day 
These six hard years that light which somewhere 

shines 
To lighten all men's darkness, if they knew ! 
And I shall find the light ; yea, now it dawned 
Glorious and helpful, w^ien my weak flesh failed 
Which this pure food, fair Sister, hath restored, 
Drawn manifold through lives to quicken life 
As life itself passes by many births 
To happier heights and purging off of sins. 
Yet dost thou truly find it sweet enough 
Only to live ? Can life and love suffice ? " 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 151 

Answered Sujata : — '* Worshipful ! my heart 
Is Httle, and a Httle rain will fill 
The lily^s cup which hardly moists the field. 
It is enough for me to feel life's sun 
Shine in my Lord's grace and my baby^s smile, 
Making the loving summer of our home. 
Pleasant my days pass filled with household cares 
From sunrise when I wake to praise the gods, 
And give forth grain, and trim the tulsi-plant. 
And set my handmaids to their tasks, till noon, 
When my Lord lays his head upon my lap 
Lulled by soft songs and wavings of the fan ; 
And so to supper-time at quiet eve. 
When by his side I stand and serve the cakes. 
Then the stars light their silver lamps for sleep, 
After the temple and the talk with friends. 
How should I not be happy, blest so much, 
And bearing him this boy whose tiny hand 
Shall lead his soul to Swarga, if it need? 
For holy books teach when a man shall plant 
Trees for the travellers' shade, and dig a well 
For the folks' comfort, and beget a son. 
It shall be good for such after their death ; 
And what the books say that I humbly take, 



152 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Being not wiser than those great of old 

Who spake with gods, and knew the hymns and 

charms, 
And all the ways of virtue and of peace. 
Also I think that good must come of good 
And ill of evil — surely — unto all — 
In every place and time — seeing sweet fruit 
Groweth from wholesome roots, and bitter things 
From poison stocks, yea; seeing, too, how spite 
Breeds hate, and kindness friends, and patience 

peace 
Even while we live ; and when 'tis willed we die. 
Shall there not be as good a ' Then ' as ' Now ' ? 
Haply much better ! since one grain of rice 
Shoots a green feather gemmed with fifty pearls. 
And all the starry champak's white and gold 
Lurks in those little, naked, gray spring-buds. 
Ah, Sir! I know there might be woes to bear 
Would lay fond Patience with her face in dust. 
If this my babe pass first I think my heart 
Would break — almost I hope my heart would 

break ; 
That I might clasp him dead and wait my Lord — 
In whatsoever world holds faithful wives — 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 153 

Duteous, attending till his hour should come. 
My daily way, rejoicing when the torch 
Lit the quick flame and rolled the choking smoke. 
For it is written if an Indian wife 
Die so, her love shall give her husband's soul 
For every hair upon her head a crore 
Of years in Swarga. Therefore fear I not ; 
And therefore, Holy Sir ! my life is glad, 
Nowise forgetting yet those other lives 
Painful and poor, wicked and miserable, 
Whereon the gods grant pity I But for me, 
What good I see humbly I seek to do. 
And live obedient to the law, in trust 
That what will come, and shall come, must come 
well."' 

Then spake our Lord : — " Thou teachest them 
who teach, 
Wiser than wisdom in thy simple lore. 
Be thou content to know not, knowing thus 
Thy way of right and duty : grow, thou flower ! 
With thy sweet kind in peaceful shade — the light 
Of Truth's high noon is not for tender leaves 
Which must spread broad in other suns, and lift 



154 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

In later lives a crowned head to the sky. 
Thou who hast worshipped me, I worship thee! 
Excellent heart ' learned unknowingly, 
As the dove is which flieth home by love. 
In thee is seen why there is hope for man 
And w^iere we hold the wheel of life at will. 
Peace 2:0 with thee, and comfort all thv davs I 
As thou accomplishest, may I achieve ! 
He whom thou thoughtest God bids thee wish 
this.'^ 

**Mayest thou achieve!'' she said, with earnest 
eyes 
Bent on her babe ; who reached its tender hands 
To Buddh — knowing, belike, as children know, 
More than we deem, and reverencing our Lord ; 
But he arose — made strong with that pure meat — 
And bent his footsteps where a great Tree grew, 
The Bodhi-tree (thenceforward in all years 
Never to fade, and ever to be kept 
In homage of the world), beneath whose leaves 
It was ordained the Truth should come to Buddh : 
Which now the Master knew ; wherefore he went 
With measured pace, steadfast, majestical, 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 1 55 

Unto the Tree of Wisdom. Oh, ye Worlds ! 
Rejoice ! our Lord wended unto the Tree ! 

Whom — as he passed into its ample shade, 
Cloistered with columned dropping stems, and 

roofed 
With vaults of glistering green — the conscious 

earth 
Worshipped with waving grass and sudden flush 
Of flowers about his feet. The forest-boughs 
Bent down to shade him ; from the river sighed 
Cool wafts of wind laden with lotus-scents 
Breathed by the water-gods. Large wondering 

eyes 
Of woodland creatures — panther, boar, and deer — 
At peace that eve, gazed on his face benign 
From cave and thicket. From its cold cleft wound 
The mottled deadly snake, dancing its hood 
In honor of our Lord ; bright butterflies 
Fluttered their vans, azure and green and gold. 
To be his fan-bearers ; the fierce kite dropped 
Its prey and screamed ; the striped palm-squirrel 

raced 
From stem to stem to see ; the weaver bird 



[56 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Chirped from her swinging nest ; the lizard ran ; 
The koil sang her hymn ; the doves flocked round ; 
Even the creeping things were 'ware and glad. 
Voices of earth and air joined in one song, 
Which unto ears that hear said : — " Lord and 

Friend ! 
Lover and Savior ! Thou who hast subdued 
Angers and prides, desires and fears and doubts, 
Thou that for each and all hast given thyself, 
Pass to the Tree ! The sad world blesseth thee 
Who art the Buddh that shall assuage her woes. 
Pass, Hailed and Honored ! strive thy last for us. 
King and high Conqueror ! thine hour is come ; 
This is the Night the ages waited for I '' 
Then fell the night, even as our Master sat 
Under that Tree. But he who is the Prince 
Of Darkness, Mara — knowing this was Buddh 
Who should deliver men, and now the hour 
When he should find the Truth and save are 

worlds — 
Gave unto all his evil powers command. 
Wherefore there trooped from every deepest pit 
The fiends who war witli Wisdom and the Light, 
Arati, Trishna, Raga, and their crew 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 1 57 

Of passions, horrors, ignorances, lusts, 

The brood of gloom and dread ; all hating Buddh, 

Seeking to shake his mind; nor knoweth one. 

Not even the wisest, how those fiends of Hell 

Battled that night to keep the Truth from Buddh : 

Sometimes with terrors of the tempest, blasts 

Of demon-armies clouding all the wind 

With thunder, and with blinding lightning flung 

In jagged javelins of purple wrath 

From splitting skies ; sometimes with wiles and 

words 
Fair-sounding, mid hushed leaves and softened airs 
From shapes of witching beauty ; wanton songs, 
Whispers of love ; sometimes with royal allures 
Of proffered rule ; sometimes with mocking doubts, 
Making truth vain. But whether these befell 
Without and visible, or whether Buddh 
Strove with fell spirits in his inmost heart. 
Judge ye : — I write what ancient books have writ. 

The ten chief Sins came — Mara's mighty ones, 
Angels of evil — Attav^da first. 
The Sin of Self, who in the Universe 
As in a mirror sees her fond face shown, 



158 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And, crying *' I," would have the world say " I," 
And all things perish so if she endure. 
'* If thou be'st Buddh," she said, " let others grope 
Lightless ; it is enough that Thou art Thou 
Changelessly ; rise and take the bliss of gods 
Who change not, heed not, strive not." But Buddli 

spake : — 
'* The right in thee is base, the wrong a curse; 
Cheat such as love themselves/' Then came wan 

Doubt, 
He that denies — the mocking Sin — and this 
Hissed in the Master's ear : — " All things are 

shows. 
And vain the knowledge of their vanity ; 
Thou dost but chase the shadow of thyself; 
Rise and go hence, there is no better way 
Than patient scorn, nor any help for man. 
Nor any staying of his whirling wheel." 
But quoth our Lord : — " Thou hast no part with 

me, 
False Visikitcha ! subtlest of man's foes." 
And third came she who gives dark creeds their 

power 
Silabbat-param^sa, sorceress. 



BOOK THE SIXTH. 159 

Draped fair in many lands as lowly Faith, 

Bat ever juggling souls with rites and prayers ; 

The keeper of those keys which lock up Hells 

And open Heavens. "Wilt thou dare," she said, 

" Put by our sacred books, dethrone our gods, 

Unpeople all the temples, shaking down 

That law which feeds the priests and props the 

realms ? " 
But Buddha answered : — " What thou bidd'st me 

keep 
Is form which passes, but the free Truth stands ; 
Get thee unto thy darkness." Next there drew 
Gallantly nigh a braver Tempter, he, 
Kama, the King of passions, who hath sway 
Over the gods themselves. Lord of all loves, 
Ruler of Pleasure's realm. Laughing he came 
Unto the tree, bearing his bow of gold 
Wreathed with red blooms, and arrows of desire 
Pointed with iive-tongued delicate flame, which 

stings 
The heart it smites sharper than poisoned barb. 
And round him came into that lonely place 
Bands of bright shapes with heavenly eyes and lips 
Singing in lovely words the praise of Love 



l6o THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

To music of invisible sweet chords, 
So witching, that it seemed the night stood still 
To hear them, and the listening stars and moon 
Paused in their orbits while these hymned to 

Buddh 
Of lost delights, and how a mortal man 
Findeth naught dearer in the Three wide worlds 
Than are the yielded loving fragrant breasts 
Of Beauty and the rosy breast-blossoms, 
Love's rubies ; nay, and touch eth naught more 

high 
Than is that dulcet harmony of form 
Seen in the lines and charms of loveliness, 
Unspeakable, yet speaking, soul to soul. 
Owned by the bounding blood, worshipped by will 
Which leaps to seize it, knowing this is best. 
This the true heaven where mortals are like gods. 
Makers and Masters, this the gift of gifts 
Ever renewed and worth a thousand woes. 
For who hath grieved when soft arms shut him 

safe. 
And all life melted to a happy sigh, 
And all the world was given in one warm kiss? 
So sang they with soft float of beckoning hands, 



BOOK THE SIXTH. l6l 

Eyes lighted with love-flames, alluring smiles ; 
In wanton dance their supple sides and limbs 
Revealing and concealing like burst buds 
Which tell their color, but hide yet their hearts. 
Never so matchless grace delighted eye 
As troop by troop these midnight-dancers swept 
Nearer the Tree, each daintier than the last. 
Murmuring: — "O great Siddartha, I am thine, 
Taste of my mouth and see if youth is sweet ! " 
Also, when nothing moved our Master's mind, 
Lo ! Kama waved his magic bow, and lo ! 
The band of dancers opened, and a shape, 
Fairest and stateliest of the throng, came forth 
Wearing the guise of sweet Yasodhara. 
Tender the passion of those dark eyes seemed 
Brimming with tears ; yearning those outspread 

arms 
Opened towards him ; musical that moan 
Wherewith the beauteous shadow named his name, 
Sighing : — * ' My Prince ! I die for lack of thee I 
What heaven hast thou found like that we knew 
By bright Rohini in the Pleasure-house, 
Where all these weary years I weep for thee ? 
Return, Siddartha ! ah ! return. But touch 



1 62 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

My lips again, but let me to thy breast 

Once, and these fruitless dreams will end ! Oh, 

look! 
Am I not she thou lovedst ? " But Buddh said : — 
"For that sweet sake of her thou playest thus. 
Fair and false Shadow ! is thy playing vain ; 
I curse thee not who wear^st a form so dear. 
Yet as thou art so are all earthly shows. 
Melt to thy void again ! " Thereat, a cry 
Thrilled through the grove, and all that comely 

rout 
Faded with flickering wafts of flame, and trail 
Of vaporous robes. 

Next, under darkening skies 
And noise of rising storm, came fiercer Sins, 
The rearmost of the Ten ; Patigha — Hate — 
With serpents coiled about her waist, which suck 
Poisonous milk from both her hanging dugs. 
And with her curses mix their angry hiss. 
Little wrought she upon that Holy One 
Who with his calm eyes dumbed her bitter lips 
And made her black snakes writhe to hide theii* 

fangs. 
Then followed Ruparaga — Lust of days — 



BOOK THE SIXTH. 1 63 

That sensual Sin which out of greed for life 
Forgets to live ; and next him Lust of Fame, 
Nobler Aruparaga, she whose spell 
Beguiles the wise, mother of daring deeds. 
Battles and toils. And haughty Mano came. 
The Fiend of Pride ; and smooth Self-Righteous- 
ness, 
Uddhachcha ; and — with many a hideous band 
Of vile and formless things, which crept and 

flapped 
Toad-like and bat-like — Ignorance, the Dam 
Of Fear and Wrong, Avidya, hideous hag. 
Whose footsteps left the midnight darker, while 
The rooted mountains shook, the wild winds 

howled. 
The broken clouds shed from their caverns streams 
Of levin-lighted rain ; stars shot from heaven. 
The solid earth shuddered as if one laid 
Flame to her gaping wounds ; the torn black air 
Was full of whistling wings, of screams and yells, 
Of evil faces peering, of vast fronts 
Terrible and majestic. Lords of Hell 
Who from a thousand Limbos led their troops 
To tempt the Master. 



1 64 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

But Buddh heeded not, 
Sitting serene, with perfect virtue walled 
As is a stronghold by its gates and ramps ; 
Also the Sacred Tree — the Bodhi-tree — 
Amid that tumult stirred not, but each leaf 
GHstened as still as when on moonlit eves 
No zephyr spills the gathering gems of dew; 
For all this clamor raged outside the shade 
Spread by those cloistered stems : 

In the third watch, — 
The earth being still, the hellish legions fled, 
A soft air breathing from the sinking moon — 
Our Lord attained Sa?nind-sa7nbuddh ; he saw, 
By light which shines beyond our mortal ken, 
The line of all his lives in all the worlds ; 
Far back, and farther back, and farthest yet, 
Five hundred lives and fifty. Even as one, 
At rest upon a mountain-summit, marks 
His path wind up by precipice and crag. 
Past thick-set woods shrunk to a patch ; through 

bogs 
Glittering false-green ; down hollows where he 

toiled 
Breathless ; on dizzy ridges where his feet 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 1 65 

Had well-nigh slipped ; beyond the sunny lawns, 
The cataract, and the cavern, and the pool. 
Backward to those dim flats wherefrom he sprang 
To reach the blue ; thus Buddha did behold 
Life's upward steps long-linked, from levels low 
Where breath is base, to higher slopes and higher, 
Whereon the ten great Virtues wait to lead 
The climber skyward. Also, Buddha saw 
How new life reaps what the old life did sow ; 
How where its march breaks off its march begins ; 
Holding the gain and answering for the loss ; 
And how in each life good begets more good, 
Evil fresli evil ; Death but casting up 
Debit or credit, whereupon th* account 
In merits or demerits stamps itself 
By sure arithmic — where no tittle drops — 
Certain and just, on some new-springing life ; 
Wherein are packed and scored past thoughts and 

deeds. 
Strivings and triumphs, memories and marks 
Of lives foregone : 

And in the middle watch 
Our Lord attained Abhidjna — insight vast 
Ranging beyond this sphere to spheres unnamed, 



1 66 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

System on system, countless worlds and suns 
Moving in splendid measures, band by band 
Linked in division, one, yet separate. 
The silver islands of a sapphire sea 
Shoreless, unfathomed, undiminished, stirred 
With waves which roll in restless tides of chanofe. 
He saw those Lords of Light who hold their 

worlds 
By bonds invisible, how they themselves 
Circle obedient round mightier orbs 
Which serve profounder splendors, star to star 
Flashing the ceaseless radiance of life 
From centres ever shifting unto cirques 
Knowing no uttermost. These he beheld 
With unsealed vision, and of all those worlds, 
Cycle on epicycle, all their tale 
Of Kalpas, Mahakalpas — terms of time 
Which no man grasps, yea, though he knew to count 
The drops in Gunga from her springs to the sea, 
Measureless unto speech — whereby these wax 
And wane ; whereby each of this heavenly host 
Fulfils its shining life, and darkling dies. 
Sakwal by Sakwal, depths and heights he passed 
Transported through the blue infinitudes, 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 1 6/ 

Marking — behind all modes, above all spheres, 

Beyond the burning impulse of each orb — 

That fixed decree at silent work which wills 

Evolve the dark to light, the dead to life, 

To fulness void, to form the yet unformed, 

Good unto better, better unto best, 

By wordless edict ; having none to bid. 

None to forbid ; for this is past all gods, 

Immutable, unspeakable, supreme ; 

A Power which builds, unbuilds, and builds again, 

Ruling all things accordant to the rule 

Of virtue, which is beauty, truth, and use : 

So that all things do well which serve the Power, 

And ill which hinder ; nay, the worm does well 

Obedient to its kind ; the hawk does well 

Which carries bleeding quarries to its young ; 

The dewdrop and the star shine sisterly 

Globing together in the common work ; 

And man who lives to die, dies to live well 

So if he guide his ways by blamelessness 

And earnest will to hinder not but help 

All thino^s both sfreat and small which suffer life. 

These did our Lord see in the middle watch. 



1 68 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

But, when the fourth watch came, the secret came 
Of Sorrow, which with evil mars the law. 
As damp and dross hold back the goldsmith's fire. 
Then was the Dukha-Satya opened him 
First of the ' ' Noble Truths ; " how. Sorrow is 
Shadow to life, moving where life doth move; 
Not to be laid aside until one lays 
Living aside, with all its changing states, 
Birth, growth, decay, love, hatred, pleasure, pain, 
Being and doing. How that none strips off 
These sad delights and pleasant griefs who lacks 
Knowledge to know them snares ; but he who 

knows 
Avidya — Delusion — sets those snares. 
Loves life no longer, but ensues escape. 
The eyes of such a one are wide, he sees 
Delusion breeds Sankhara, Tendency 
Perverse ; Tendency Energy — Vidnnan — 
Whereby comes Namarupa, local Form 
And Name and Bodiment, bringing the man 
With senses naked to the sensible, 
A helpless mirror of all shows which pass 
Across his heart ; and so Vedana grows — 
'Sense-life' — false in its gladness, fell in sadness, 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 1 69 

But sad or glad, the Mother of Desire, 
Trishna, that thirst which makes the living drink 
Deeper and deeper of the false salt waves 
Whereon they float, pleasures, ambitions, wealth, 
Praise, fame, or domination, conquest, love ; 
Rich meats and robes, and fair abodes and pride 
Of ancient lines, and lust of days, and strife 
To live, and sins that flow from strife, some 

sweet, 
Some bitter. Thus Life's thirst quenches itself 
With draughts which double thirst, but who is wise 
Tears from his soul this Trishna, feeds his sense 
No lonorer on false shows, files his firm mind 

o 

To seek not, strive not, wrong not ; bearing meek 
All ills which flow from foregone wrongfulness, 
And so constraining passions that they die 
Famished : till all the sum of ended life — 
The Kaj'jna — all that total of a soul 
Which is the things it did, the thoughts it had. 
The ' Self ^ it wove — with woof of viewless time, 
Crossed on the warp invisible of acts — 
The outcome of him on the Universe, 
Grows pure and sinless ; either never more 
Needing to find a body and a place. 



I 70 . THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Or so informing what fresh frame it takes 

In new existence that the new toils prove 

Lighter and lighter not to be at all, 

Thus * * finishing the Path ; ^' free from Earth^s 

cheats ; 
Released from all the Skandhas of the flesh ; 
Broken from ties — from Up^danas — saved 
From whirling on the Wheel ; aroused and sane 
As is a man wakened from hateful dreams. 
Until — greater than Kings, than Gods more 

glad ! — 
The aching craze to live ends, and life glides — 
Lifeless — to nameless quiet, nameless joy, 
Blessed NirvIna — sinless, stirless rest — 
That change which never changes ! 

Lo I the Dawn 
Sprang with Buddh^s victory ! lo ! in the East 
Flamed the first fires of beauteous day, poured forth 
Through fleeting folds of Night's black drapery. 
Hio:h in the widenins: blue the herald-star 
Faded to paler silver as there shot 
Brighter and brightest bars of rosy gleam 
Across the gray. Far off the shadowy hills 
Saw the great Sun, before the world was \vare. 



BOOK THE SIXTH. 171 

And donned their crowns of crimson ; flower by 

flower 
Felt the warm breath of Morn and 'gan unfold 
Their tender lids. Over the spangled grass 
Swept the swift footsteps of the lovely Light, 
Turning the tears of Night to joyous gems, 
Decking the earth with radiance, "broidering 
The sinking storm-clouds with a golden fringe, - 
Gilding the feathers of the palms, which waved 
Glad salutation ; darting beams of gold 
Into the glades; touching with magic wand 
The stream to rippled ruby ; in the brake 
Finding the mild eyes of the antelopes 
And saying: — *' It is day ! '' in nested sleep 
Touching the small heads under many a wing 
And whispering : — " Children, praise the light of 

day ! ^' ^ 
Whereat there piped anthems of all the birds. 
The KbiPs fluted song, the BulbuFs hymn. 
The " morning, morning'' of the painted thrush, 
The tw^itter of the sunbirds starting forth 
To find the honey ere the bees be out. 
The gray crow's caw, the parrot's scream, the strokes 
Of the green hammersmith, the myna's chirp. 



1/2 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

The never-finished love-talk of the doves : 
Yea ! and so holy was the influence 
Of that high Dawn which came with victory 
That, far and near, in homes of men there spread 
An unknown peace. The slayer hid his knife ; 
The robber laid his plunder back ; the shrofif 
Counted full tale of coins ; all evil hearts 
Grew gentle, kind hearts gentler, as the balm 
Of that divinest Daybreak lightened Earth. 
Kings at fierce war called truce ; the sick men 

leaped 
Laughing from beds of pain ; the dying smiled 
As though they knew that happy Morn was sprung 
From fountains farther than the utmost East ; 
And o^er the heart of sad Yasodhara, 
Sitting forlorn at Prince Siddartha's bed. 
Came sudden bliss, as if love should not fail 
Nor such vast sorrow miss to end in joy. 
So glad the World was — though it wist not why — 
That over desolate wastes went swooning songs 
Of mirth, the voice of bodiless Prets and Bhuts 
Foreseeing Buddh ; and Devas in the air 
Cried "It is finished, finished!" and the priests 
Stood with the wondering people in the streets 



r 



BOOK THE SIXTH, 173 

Watching those golden splendors flood the sky 
And saying : — " There hath happed some mighty 

thing." 
Also in Ran and Jungle grew that day 
Friendship amongst the creatures ; spotted deer 
Browsed fearless where the tigress fed her cubs, 
And cheetahs lapped the pool beside the bucks; 
Under the eagle's rock the brown hares scoured 
While his fierce beak but preened an idle wing ; 
The snake sunned all his jewels in the beam 
With deadly fangs in sheath ; the shrike let pass 
The nestling-iinch ; the emerald halcyons 
Sat dreaming while the fishes played beneath, 
Nor hawked the merops, though the butterflies — 
Crimson and blue and amber — flitted thick 
Around his perch ; the Spirit of our Lord 
Lay potent upon man and bird and beast, 
Even while he mused under that Bodhi-tree, 
Glorified with the Conquest gained for all, 
And lightened by a Light greater than Day's. 

Then he arose — radiant, rejoicing, strong — 
Beneath the Tree, and lifting high his voice 
Spake this, in hearing of all Times and Worlds : — - 



174 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Anekajdtisangsdraiig 
Sandhdwissang anibJiisaitg 
Gahakdrakaiigawesanto 
Dukkhdjdtip7inapp7inang. 

Gahakdrakadithosi ; 
Pniiagehang nakdhasi; 
Sabhdtephdsiikhdbhaggd^ 
Gahakutaiigwisang kJiitaiig ; 
Wisaiigkhdragataiig cJiittang ; 
ya7ihdnangkhaya7najhagd . 

Many a House of life 
Hath held me — seeking ever him who 

WROUGHT 

These prisons of the senses, sorrow-fraught ; 
Sore was my ceaseless strife ! 

But now. 
Thou Builder of this Tabernacle — Thou ! 
I KNOW Thee I Never shalt Thou build again 
These walls of pain. 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 



(175) 



i 

I 



BOOK THE SEVENTH, l^J^ 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 



Sorrowful dwelt the King Suddhodana 
All those long years among the S^kya Lords 
Lacking the speech and presence of his Son ; 
Sorrowful sat the sweet Yasodhara 
All those long years, knowing no joy of life, 
Widowed of him her Hving Liege and Prince. 
And ever, on the news of some recluse 
Seen far away by pasturing camel-men 
Or traders threading devious paths for gain. 
Messengers from the King had gone and come. 
Bringing account of many a holy sage 
Lonely and lost to home ; but naught of him 
The crown of white Kapilavastu's line. 
The glory of her monarch and his hope, 
The heart's content of sweet Yasodhara, 
Far-wandered now, forgetful, changed, or dead. 

But on a day in the Wasanta-time, 
When silver sprays swing on the mango-trees 



178 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

And all the earth is clad with garb of spring, 
The Princess sat by that bright garden-stream 
Whose gliding glass, bordered with lotus-cups, 
Mirrored so often in the bliss gone by 
Their clinging hands and meeting lips. Her lids 
Were wan with tears, her tender cheeks had 

thinned ; 
Her lips' delicious curves were drawn with grief; 
The lustrous glory of her hair was hid — 
Close-bound as widows use ; no ornament 
She wore, nor any jewel clasped the cloth — 
Coarse, and of mourning-white — crossed on her 

breast. 
Slow moved and painfully those small fine feet 
Which had the roe's gait and the rose-leafs fall 
In old years at the loving voice of him. 
Her eyes, those lamps of love, — which were as if 
Sunlight should shine from out the deepest dark. 
Illumining Night's peace with Daytime's glow — 
Unlighted now, and roving aimlessly. 
Scarce marked the clustering signs of coming 

Spring, 
So the silk lashes drooped over their orbs. 
In one hand was a girdle thick with pearls, 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 1 79 

Siddartha's — treasured since that night he fled — 

(Ah, bitter Night ! mother of weeping days ! 

When was fond Love so pitiless to love, 

Save that this scorned to limit love by life?) 

The other led her little son, a boy 

Divinely fair, the pledge Siddartha left — 

Named Rahula — now seven years old, who tripped 

Gladsome beside his mother, light of heart 

To see the spring-blooms bourgeon o'er the world. 

So, while they lingered by the lotus-pools, 
And, lightly laughing, Rahula flung rice 
To feed the blue and purple fish : and she 
With sad eyes watched the swiftly-flying cranes, 
Sighing : — " Oh ! creatures of the wandering wing. 
If ye shall light where my dear Lord is hi 
Say that Yasodhara lives nigh to death 
For one word of his mouth, one touch of him I " — 
Thus, as they played and sighed — mother and 

child — 
Came some among the damsels of the Court 
Saying : — " Great Princess ! there have entered in 
At the south gate merchants of Hastinpur, 
Tripusha called and Bhalluk, men of worth, 



l8o THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Long travelled from the loud sea's edge, who bring 
Marvellous lovely webs pictured with gold, 
Waved blades of gilded steel, wrought bowls in 

brass, 
Cut ivories, spice, simples, and unknown birds, 
Treasures of far-off peoples ; but they bring 
That which doth beggar these, for He is seen ! 
Thy Lord, — our Lord, — the hope of all the land — 
Siddtoha ! they have seen him face to face, 
Yea, and have worshipped him with knees and 

brows, 
And offered offerings ; for he is become 
All which was shown, a Teacher of the wise, 
World-honored, holy, wonderful ; a Buddh 
Who doth deliver men and save all flesh 
By sweetest speech and pity vast as Heaven : 
And, lo 1 he journeyeth hither, these do say." 

Then — while the glad blood bounded in her veins 
As Gunga leaps when first the mountain snows 
Melt at her springs — uprose Yasodhara 
And clapped her palms, and laughed, with brim- 
ming tears 
Beading her lashes. "Oh! call quick," she cried, 



BOOK THE SEVENTH, l8l 

"These merchants to my purdah, for mine ears 
Thirst hke parched throats to drink their blessed 

news. 
Go bring them in, — but, if their tale be true, 
Say I will fill their girdles with much gold. 
With gems that Kings shall envy : come ye too, 
My girls, for ye shall have guerdon of this 
If there be gifts to speak my grateful heart." 

So went those merchants to the Pleasure- House, 
Full softly pacing through its golden ways 
With naked feet, amid the peering maids. 
Much wondering at the glories of the Court. 
Whom, when they came without the purdah's folds, 
A voice, tender and eager, filled and charmed 
With trembling music, saying: — "Ye are come 
From far, fair Sirs I and ye have seen my Lord — 
Yea, worshipped — for he is become a Buddh, 
World-honored, holy, and delivers men. 
And journeyeth hither. Speak ! for, if this be. 
Friends are ye of my House, welcome and dear." 

Then answer made Tripusha : — " We have seen 
That sacred Master, Princess ! we have bowed 



I 82 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Before his feet ; for who was lost a Prince 

Is found a greater than the King of kings. 

Under the Bodhi-tree by Phalgu^s bank 

That which shall save the world hath late been 

wrought 
By him, — the Friend of all, the Prince of all — 
Thine most, High Lady ! from whose tears men 

win 
The comfort of this Word the Master speaks. 
Lo ! he is well, as one beyond all ills, 
Uplifted as a god from earthly woes, 
Shining with risen Tmth, golden and clear. 
Moreover as he entereth town by town, 
Preaching those noble ways which lead to peace, 
The hearts of men follow his path as leaves 
Troop to the wind or sheep draw after one 
Who knows the pastures. We ourselves have 

heard, 
By Gaya in the green Tchirnika grove. 
Those wondrous lips and done them reverence : 
He Cometh hither ere the first rains fall."" 

Thus spake he, and Yasodhara, for joy, 
Scarce mastered breath to answer: — '* Be it well 



BOOK THE SEVENTH, 1 83 

Now and at all times with ye, worthy friends ! 
Who bring good tidings ; but of this great thing 
Wist ye how it befell ? " 

Then Bhalluk told 
Such as the people of the valleys knew 
Of that dread night of conflict, when the air 
Darkened with fiendish shadows, and the earth 
Quaked, and the waters swelled with Mara's wrath. 
Also how gloriously that morning broke 
Radiant with rising hopes for man, and how 
The Lord w^as found rejoicing 'neath his Tree. 
But many days the burden of release — 
To be escaped beyond all storms of doubt. 
Safe on Truth's shore — lay, spake he, on that 

heart 
A golden load ; for how shall men — Buddh 

mused — 
Who love their sins and cleave to cheats of sense, 
And drink of error from a thousand springs. 
Having no mind to see, nor strength to break 
The fleshly snare Avhich binds them — how should 

such 
Receive the Twelve Nidanas and the Law 
Redeeming all, yet strange to profit by, 



I 84 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

As the caged bird oft shuns its opened door? 

So had we missed the helpful victory 

If, in this earth without a refuge, Buddh, 

Winning the way, had deemed it all too hard 

For mortal feet and passed, none following him. 

Yet pondered the compassion of our Lord ; 

But in that hour there rang a voice as sharp 

As cry of travail, so as if the earth 

Moaned in birth-throe, '' Nasyaini ahani bhil 

N'a^yati loka ! " Surely I am lost, 

I AND MY CREATURES : then a pause, and next 

A pleading sigh borne on the western wind, 

Srityatdm dharnia, Bhagwat V^ Oh, Supreme 

Let thy great Law be uttered ! Whereupon 

The Master cast his vision forth on flesh, 

Saw who should hear and who must wait to hear. 

As the keen Sun gilding the lotus-lakes 

Seeth which buds will open to his beams 

And which are not yet risen from their roots ; 

Then spake, divinely smiling: — "Yea! I preach! 

Whoso will listen let him learn the Law." 

Afterwards passed he, said they, by the hills 
Unto Benares, where he taught the Five, 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 1 85 

Showing how birth and death should be destroyed, 
And how man hath no fate except past deeds, 
No Hell but what he makes, no Heaven too high 
For those to reach whose passions sleep subdued. 
This was the fifteenth day of Vaishya 
Mid-afternoon, and that night was full moon. 

But, of the Rishis, first Kaundinya 
Owned the Four Truths and entered on the Paths ; 
And after him Bhadraka, Asvajit, 
Basava, Mahanama ; also there 
Within the Deer-park, at the feet of Buddh, 
Yasad the Prince with nobles fifty-four, 
Hearing the blessed word our Master spake. 
Worshipped and followed ; for there sprang up 

peace 
And knowledge of a new time come for men 
In all who heard, as spring the flowers and grass 
When water sparkles through a sandy plain. 

These sixty — said they — did our Lord send 
forth. 
Made perfect in restraint and passion-free, 
To teach the Way ; but the World-honored turned 



I 86 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

South from the Deer-park and Isipatan 
To Yashti and King Bimbis^ra^s realm, 
Where many days he taught ; and after these 
King Bimbisara and his folk believed, 
Learning the law of love and ordered life. 
Also he gave the Master, of free gift, — 
Pouring forth water on the hands of Buddh, — 
The Bamboo-Garden, named Weluvana, 
Wherein are streams and caves and lovely glades ; 
And the King set a stone there, carved with 
this : — 

Ye dharnia hetuppabhazvd 
Yesan hettm Tathdgato ; 
Aha yesan cha yo nirodhd 
Ewan wadi Maha Samano, 

*'What life's course and cause sustain 
These Tathagato made plain ; 
What delivers from life's woe 
That our Lord hath made us know." 

And, in that Garden — said they — there was held 
A high Assembly, where the Teacher spake 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 187 

Wisdom and power, winning all souls which 

heard ; 
So that nine hundred took the yellow robe — 
Such as the Master wears, — and spread his Law ; 
And this the gatha was wherewith he closed : — 

Sabba pdpassa akaranaii ; 
Kusalassa up as amp add : 
Sa chitta pariyodapanan ; 
Etan Budhdnusdsanan. 

**Evil swells the debts to pay, 
Good delivers and acquits ; 
Shun evil, follow good ; hold sway 
Over thyself. This is the Way.'' 

Whom, when they ended speaking so of him, 
With gifts, and thanks which made the jewels 

dull, 
The Princess recompensed. " But by what road 
Wendeth my Lord ? '' she asked : the merchants 

said, 
" Yojans threescore stretch from the city-walls 
To Rajagriha, whence the easy path 



I 88 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Passeth by Sona hither, and the hills. 
Our oxen, treading eight slow koss a day, 
Came in one moon/'' 

Then the King, hearing word, 
Sent nobles of the Court — well-mounted lords — 
Nine separate messengers, each embassy 
Bidden to say : — -' The King Suddhodana — 
Nearer the pyre by seven long years of lack. 
Wherethrough he hath not ceased to seek for 

thee — 
Prays of his son to come unto his own, 
The Throne and people of this longing Realm, 
Lest he shall die and see thy face no more." 
Also nine horsemen sent Yasodhara 
Bidden to say : — *'The Princess of thy House — 
Rahula^s mother — craves to see thy face 
As the night-blowing moon-flower's swelling heart 
Pines for the moon, as pale asoka-buds 
Wait for a woman's foot : if thou hast found 
More than was lost, she prays her part in this, 
Rahula's part, but most of all thyself.'' 
So sped the Sakya Lords, but it befell 
That each one, with the message in his mouth, 
Entered the Bamboo-Garden in that hour 



BOOK THE SEVENTH, 1 89 

When Buddha taught his Law ; and — hearing — 

each 
Forgot to speak, lost thought of King and quest, 
Of the sad Princess even ; only gazed 
Eye-rapt upon the Master ; only hung 
Heart-caught upon the speech, compassionate, 
Commanding, perfect, pure, enlightening all. 
Poured from those sacred lips. Look ! like a bee 
Winged for the hive, who sees the mogras spread 
And scents their utter sweetness on the air, 
If he be honey-filled, it matters not ; 
If night be nigh, or rain, he will not heed ; 
Needs must be light on those delicious blooms 
And drain their nectar ; so these messengers 
One with another, hearing Buddha's words. 
Let go the purpose of their speed, and mixed, 
Heedless of all, amid the ^Master's train. 
Wherefore the King bade that Udayi go — 
Chiefest in all the Court, and faithfulest, 
Siddartha's playmate in the happier days — 
Who, as he drew anear the garden, plucked 
Blown tufts of tree- wool from the grove and 

sealed 
The entrance of his hearino: : thus he came 



'& 5 



I90 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Safe through the lofty peril of the place, 
And told the message of the King, and hers. 

Then meekly bowed his head and spake our 
Lord 
Before the people : — " Surely I shall go ! 
It is my duty as it was my will : 
Let no man miss to render reverence 
To those who lend him life, whereby come 

means 
To live and die no more, but safe attain 
Blissful Nirvana, if ye keep the Law, 
Purging past wrongs and adding naught thereto, 
Complete in love and lovely charities. 
Let the King know and let the Princess hear 
I take the way forthwith." This told, the folk 
Of white Kapilavastu and its fields 
Made ready for the entrance of their Prince. 
At the south gate a bright pavilion rose 
With flower-wreathed pillars, and the walls of 

silk 
Wrought on their red and green with woven gold. 
Also the roads were laid with scented boughs 
Of neem and mango, and full mussuks shed 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 191 

Sandal and jasmine on the dust ; and flags 
Fluttered ; and on the day when he should come 
It was ordained how many elephants — 
With silver howdahs and their tusks gold-tipped — 
Should wait beyond the ford, and where the drums 
Should boom ' ' Siddartha cometh I ■' where the lords 
Should light and worship, and the dancing girls 
Where they should strew their flowers, with dance 

and song, 
So that the steed he rode might tramp knee-deep 
In rose and balsam, and the ways be fair; 
While the town rang with music and high joy. 
This was ordained, and all men's ears were 

pricked 
Dawn after dawn to catch the first drum's beat 
Announcing, '* Now he cometh I ^' 

But it fell — 
Eager to be before — Yasodhara 
Rode in her litter to the city- walls 
Where soared the bright pavilion. All around 
A beauteous garden smiled — Nigrodha named — 
Shaded with bel-trees and the green-plumed dates, 
New-trimmed and gay with winding walks and 

banks 



192 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Of fruits and flowers ; for the southern road 
Skirted its lawns, on this hand leaf and bloom. 
On that the suburb-huts where base-borns dwelt 
Outside the gates, a patient folk and poor, 
Whose touch for Kshatriya and priest of Brahm 
Were sore defilement. Yet those, too, were quick 
With expectation, rising ere the dawn 
To peer along the road, to climb the trees 
At far-off trumpet of some elephant. 
Or stir of temple-drum ; and when none came. 
Busied with lowly chares to please the Prince ; 
Sweeping their door-stones, setting forth their 

flags. 
Stringing the fluted fig-leaves into chains, 
New furbishing the Lingam, decking new 
Yesterday's faded arch of boughs, but aye 
Questioning wayfarers if any noise 
Be on the road of great Siddartha. These 
The Princess marked with lovely languid eyes. 
Watching, as they, the southward plain, and bent 
Like them to listen if the passers gave 
News of the path. So fell it she beheld 
One slow approaching with his head close shorn, 
A yellow cloth over his shoulder cast, 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 1 93 

Girt as the hermits are, and in his hand 
An earthen bowl, shaped melonwise, the which 
Meekly at each hut-door he held a space, 
Taking the granted dole with gentle thanks 
And all as gently passing where none gave. 
Two followed him wearing the yellow robe, 
But he w4io bore the bowl so lordly seemed, 
So reverend, and with such a passage moved, 
With so commanding presence filled the air. 
With such sweet eyes of holiness smote all. 
That, as they reached him alms the givers gazed 
Awestruck upon his face, and some bent down 
In worship, and some ran to fetch fresh gifts 
Grieved to be poor ; till slowly, group by group, 
Children and men and women drew behind 
Into his steps, whispering with covered lips : — 
" Who is he ? who ? when looked a Rishi thus? " 
But as he came with quiet footfall on 
Nigh the pavilion, lo I the silken door 
Lifted, and, all unveiled, Yasodhara 
Stood in his path crying: — " Siddartha ! Lord!" 
With wide eyes streaming and with close-clasped 

hands. 
Then sobbing fell upon his feet, and lay. 



194 T^^^ LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Afterwards, when this weeping lady passed 
Into the Noble Paths, and one had prayed 
Answer from Buddha wherefore — being vowed 
Quit of all mortal passion and the touch, 
Flower-soft and conquering, of a woman's hands — 
He suffered such embrace, the Master said : — 
' ' The greater beareth with the lesser love 
So it may raise it unto easier heights. 
Take heed that no man, being 'scaped from bonds, 
Vexeth bound souls with boasts of liberty. 
Free are ye rather that your freedom spread 
By patient winning and sweet wisdom's skill. 
Three eras of long toil bring Bodhisats — 
Who will be guides and help this darkling world — 
Unto deliverance, and the first is named 
Of deep ' Resolve,' the second of ' Attempt,' 
The third of ' Nomination.' Lo ! I lived 
In era of Resolve, desiring good. 
Searching for wisdom, but mine eyes were sealed. 
Count the gray seeds on 3^onder castor-clump. 
So many rains it is since I was Ram, 
A merchant of the coast which looketh south 
To Lanka and the hiding-place of pearls. 
Also in that far time Yasodhara 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 1 95 

Dwelt with me in our village by the sea, 
Tender as now, and Lukshmi was her name. 
And I remember how I journeyed thence 
Seeking our gain, foi* poor the household was 
And lowly. Not the less with wistful tears 
She prayed me that I should not part, nor tempt 
Perils by land and water. ' How could love 
Leave what it loved?'' she wailed; yet, venturing, I 
Passed to the Straits, and after storm and toil 
And deadly strife with creatures of the deep. 
And woes beneath the midnight and t]ie noon, 
Searching the wave I won therefrom a pearl 
Moonlike and glorious, such as Kings might buy 
Emptying their treasury. Then came I glad 
Unto mine hills, but over all that land 
Famine spread sore ; ill was I stead to live 
In journey home, and hardly reached my door — 
Aching for food ^ with that white w^ealth of the 

sea 
Tied in my girdle. Yet no food was there ; 
And on the threshold she for whom I toiled- — 
More than myself — lay with her speechless lips 
Nigh unto death for one small gift of grain. 
Then cried I, 'If there be who hath of grain, 



196 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Here is a kingdom's ransom for one life ; 
Give Lukshmi bread and take my moonlight pearl.' 
Whereat one brought the last of all his hoard, 
Millet — three seers — and clutched the beauteous 

thing. 
But Lukshmi lived, and sighed with gathered life, 
' Lo ! thou didst love indeed ! ' I spent my pearl 
Well in that life to comfort heart and mind 
Else quite uncomforted ; but these pure pearls. 
My last great gain, won from a deeper wave — 
The Twelve Nidanas and the Law of Good — 
Cannot be spent, nor dimmed, and most fulfil 
Their perfect beauty being freeliest given. 
For like as is to Meru yonder hill 
Heaped by the little ants, and like as dew 
Dropped in the footmark of a bounding roe 
Unto the shoreless seas, so was that gift 
Unto my present giving ; and so love — 
Vaster in being free from toils of sense — 
Was wisest stooping to the weaker heart ; 
And so the feet of sweet Yasodhara 
Passed into peace and bliss, being softly led.'' 



But when the King heard how Sidd^rtha came 



BOOK THE SEVENTH. 1 97 

Shorn, with the mendicant's sad-colored cloth, 
And stretching out a bowl to gather orts 
From base-borns' leavings, wrathful sorrow drave 
Love from his heart. Thrice on the ground he 

spat, 
Plucked at his silvered beard, and strode straight 

forth 
Lackeyed by trembling lords. Frowning he clomb 
Upon his war-horse, drove the spurs, and dashed, 
Angered, through wandering ftreets and lanes of 

folk 
Scarce finding breath to say, — "The King! bow 

down I "' 
Ere the loud cavalcade had clattered by : 
Which — at the turning by the Temple- wall, 
Where the south gate was sean — encountered full 
A mighty crowd ; to every edge of it 
Poured fast more people, till the roads were lost. 
Blotted by that huge company which thronged 
And grew, close following him whose look serene 
Met the old King's. Nor lived the fathers wrath 
Longer than while the gentle eyes of Buddh 
Lingered in worship on his troubled brows. 
Then downcast sank, with his true knee, to earth 



igS THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

In proud humility. So dear it seemed 
To see the Prince, to know him whole, to mark 
That glory greater than of earthly state 
Crowning his head, that majesty which brought 
All men, so awed and silent, in his steps. 
Nathless, the King broke forth : — " Ends it in this 
That great Sidd^rtha steals into his realm, 
Wrapped in a clout, shorn, sandalled, craving food 
Of low-borns, he whose life was as a God's? 
My son I heir of thi^ spacious power, and heir 
Of Kings who did but clap their palms to have 
What earth could give or eager service bring? 
Thou should^st have come apparelled in thy rank. 
With shining spears, and tramp of horse and foot. 
Lo ! all my soldiers camped upon the road, 
And all , my city waited at the gates ; 
Where hast thou sojourned through these evil years 
Whilst thy crowned father mourned? and she, too, 

there 
Lived as the widows use, foregoing joys ; 
Never once hearing sound of song or string, 
Nor wearing once the festal robe, till now 
When in her cloth of gold she welcomes home 
A beggar-spouse in yellow remnants clad. 



BOOK THE SEVENTH, 199 

Son ! why is this? " 

' ' My Father ! ^' came reply, 
''It is the custom of my race/' 

*' Thy race," 
Answered the King, "counted a hundred thrones 
From Maha Sammat, but no deed hke this." 

" Not of a mortal Hne," the Master said, 
"I spake, but of descent invisible, 
The Buddhas who have been and who shall be 
Of these am I, and what they did I do. 
And this, which now befalls, so fell before, 
That at his gate a King in warrior- mail 
Should meet his son, a Prince in hermit- weeds ; 
And that, by love and self-control, being more 
Than mightiest Kings in all their puissance. 
The appointed helper of the Worlds should bow — 
As now do I — and with all lowly love 
Proffer, where it is owed for tender debts. 
The first-fruits of the treasure he hath brought ; 
Which now I proffer." 

Then the King amazed 
Inquired "What treasure?'' and the teacher took 
Meekly the royal palm, and while they paced 



200 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Through worshipping streets — the Princess and the 

King 
On either side — he told the things which make 
For peace and pureness, those Four noble Truths 
Which hold all wisdom as shores shut the seas, 
Those eight right Rules whereby who will may 

walk — 
Monarch or slave — upon the perfect Path 
That hath its Stages Four and Precepts Eight, 
Whereby whoso will live — mighty or mean, 
Wise or unlearned, man, woman, young or old — 
Shall, soon or late, break from the wheels of life. 
Attaining blest Nirvana. So they came 
Into the Palace-porch, Suddhodana 
With brows unknit drinking the mighty words. 
And in his own hand carrying Buddha's bowl. 
Whilst a new light brightened the lovely eyes 
Of sweet Yasodhara and sunned her tears ; 
And that night entered they the Way of Peace. 



BOOK THE EIGHTH 



(201) 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 203 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 



A BROAD mead spreads by swift Kohana's bank 

At Nagara ; five days shall bring a man 

In ox- wain thither from Benares' shrines 

Eastward and northward journeying. The horns 

Of white Himala look upon the place, 

Which all the year is glad with blooms, and girt 

By groves made green from that bright streamlet's 

wave. 
Soft are its slopes and cool its fragrant shades, 
And holy all the spirit of the spot 
Unto this time : the breath of eve comes hushed 
Over the tangled thickets, and high heaps 
Of carved red stones cloven by root and stem 
Of creeping fig, and clad with waving veil 
Of leaf and grass. The still snake glistens forth 
From crumbled work of lac and cedar-beams 
To coil his folds there on deep-graven slabs ; 
The lizard dwells and darts o'er painted floors 



204 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Where Kings have paced ; the gray fox litters 

safe 
Under the broken thrones ; only the peaks, 
And stream, and sloping lawns, and gentle airs 
Abide unchanged. All else, like all fair shows 
Of life, are fled — for this is where it stood. 
The city of Suddhodana, the hill 
Whereon, upon an eve of gold and blue. 
At sinking sun Lord Buddha set himself 
To teach the Law in hearing of his own. 

Lo ! ye shall read it in the Sacred Books 
How, being met in that glad pleasaunce-place — 
A garden in old days with hanging walks, 
Fountains, and tanks, and rose-banked terraces 
Girdled by gay pavilions and the sweep 
Of stately palace-fronts — the Master sat 
Eminent, worshipped, all the earnest throng 
Watching the opening of his lips to learn 
That wisdom which hath made our Asia mild; 
Whereto four thousand lakhs of living souls 
Witness this day. Upon the King^s right hand 
He sat, and round were ranged the Sakya Lords 
Ananda, Devadatta — all the Court : 




The Teaching. 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 205 

Behind stood Seriyut and Mugallan, chiefs 
Of the calm brethren in the yellow garb, 
A goodly company. Between his knees 
Rahula smiled, with wondering childish eyes 
Bent on the awful face, while at his feet 
Sat sweet Yasodhara, her heartaches gone, 
Foreseeing that fair love which doth not feed 
On fleeting sense, that life which knows no age. 
That blessed last of deaths when Death is dead, 
His victory and hers. Wherefore she laid 
Her hand upon his hands, folding around 
Her silver shoulder-cloth his yellow robe, 
Nearest in all the world to him whose words 
The Three Worlds waited for. I cannot tell 
A small part of the splendid lore which broke 
From Buddha's lips : I am a late-come scribe 
Who love the Master and his love of men, 
And tell this legend, knowing he was wise. 
But have not wit to speak beyond the books ; 
And time hath blurred their script and ancient sense, 
Which once was new and mighty, moving all. 
A little of that large discourse I know 
Which Buddha spake on the soft Indian eve ; 
So, too, I know it writ that they who heard 



206 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Were more — lakhs more — crores more — than could 

be seen. 
For all the Devas and the Dead thronged there, 
Till Heaven was emptied to the seventh zone 
And uttermost dark Hells opened their bars ; 
Also the daylight lingered past its time 
In rose-leaf radiance on the watching peaks, 
So that it seemed Night listened in the glens 
And Noon upon the mountains ; yea ! they write, 
The Evening stood between them like some maid 
Celestial, love-struck, rapt ; the smooth-rolled clouds 
Her braided hair ; the studded stars the pearls 
And diamonds of her coronal ; the m.oon 
Her forehead-jewel, and the deepening dark 
Her woven garments. 'Twas her close-held breath 
Which came in scented sighs across the lawns 
While our Lord taught, and, while he taught, who 

heard — 
Though he were stranger in the land, or slave, 
High caste or low, come of the Aryan blood, 
Or Mlech or Jungle-dweller — seemed to hear 
What tongue his fellows talked. Nay, outside 

those 
Who crowded by the river, great and small, 



BOOK THE EIGHTH, 20/ 

The birds and beasts and creeping things — His 

writ — 
Had sense of Buddha's vast embracing love 
And took the promise of his piteous speech ; 
So that their lives — prisoned in shape of ape, 
Tiger, or deer, shagged bear, jackal, or wolf. 
Foul-feeding kite, pearled dove, or peacock gemmed, 
Squat toad, or speckled serpent, lizard, bat ; 
Yea, or of fish fanning the river-waves — 
Touched meekly at the skirts of brotherhood 
With man who hath less innocence than these, 
And in mute gladness knew their bondage broke 
Whilst Buddha spake these things before the King : 

Om, amitaya I measure not with words 

Th' Immeasurable ; nor sink the string of thought 

Into the Fathomless. Who asks doth err, 
Who answers, errs. Say naught I 

The Books teach Darkness was, at first of all, 
And Brahm, sole meditating in that Night : 

Look not for Brahm and the Beginning there ! 
Nor him, nor any light 



208 . THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes, 
Or any searcher know by mortal mind ; 

Veil after veil will lift — but there must be 
Veil upon veil behind. 

Stars sweep and question not. This is enough 
That life and death and joy and woe abide ; 

And cause and sequence, and the course of time. 
And Being's ceaseless tide. 

Which, ever changing, runs, linked like a river 
By ripples following ripples, fast or slow — 

The same yet not the same — from far-off fountain 
To where its waters flow 

Into the seas. These, steaming to the Sun, 
Give the lost wavelets back in cloudy fleece 

To trickle down the hills, and glide again; 
Having no pause or peace. 

This is enough to know, the phantasms are ; 

The Heavens, Earths, Worlds, and changes chang- 
ing them, 
A mighty whirling wheel of strife and stress 

Which none can stay or stem. 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 209 

Pray not I the Darkness will not brighten ! Ask 
Naught from the Silence, for it cannot speak I 

Vex not your mournful minds with pious pains I 
Ah ! Brothers, Sisters I seek 

Naught from the helpless gods by gift and hymn, 
Nor bribe with blood, nor feed with fruits and 
cakes ; 

Within yourselves deliverance must be sought ; 
Each man his prison makes. 

Each hath such lordship as the loftiest ones ; 

Nay, for with Powers above, around, below, 
As with all flesh and whatsoever lives, 

Act maketh joy and woe. 

What hath been bringeth what shall be, and is, 
Worse — better — last for first and first for last : 

The Angels in the Heavens of Gladness reap 
Fruits of a holy past : 

The devils in the underworlds wear out 

Deeds that were wicked in an age gone by : 

Nothing endures : fair virtues waste with time. 
Foul sins grow purged thereby. 



2IO THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Who toiled a slave may come anew a Prince 
For gentle worthiness and merit won ; 

Who ruled a King may wander earth in rags 
For things done and undone. 

Higher than Indra's ye may lift your lot, 
And sink it lower than the worm or gnat ; 

The end of many myriad lives is this, 
The end of myriads that. 

Only, while turns this wheel invisible, 

No pause, no peace, no staying-place can be; 

Who mounts may fall, who falls will mount ; the 
spokes 
Go round unceasingly I 

If ye lay bound upon the wheel of change, 
And no way were of breaking from the chain. 

The Heart of boundless Being is a curse, 
The Soul of Things fell Pain. 

Ye are not bound ! the Soul of Things is sweet, 
The Heart of Being is celestial rest ; 

Stronger than woe is will : that which was Good 
Doth pass to Better — Best. 



BOOK THE EIGHTIL 211 

I, Buddh, who wept with all my brothers* tears, 
Whose heart was broken by a whole w^orld's woe, 

Laugh and am glad, for there is Liberty I 
Ho ! ye who suffer ! know 

Ye suffer from yourselves. None else compels, 
None other holds you that ye live and die, 

And whirl upon the wheel, and hug and kiss 
Its spokes of agony. 

Its tire of tears, its nave of nothingness. 

Behold, I show you Truth I Lov;er than hell, 
Higher than heaven, outside the utmost stars, 

Farther than Brahm doth dwell, 

Before beginning, and without an end. 
As space eternal and as surety sure, 

Is fixed a Power divine which moves to good. 
Only its laws endure. 

This is its touch upon the blossomed rose. 
The fashion of its hand shaped lotus-leaves ; 

In dark soil and the silence of the seeds 
The robe of Spring it weaves ; 



2 I 2 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

That is its painting on the glorious clouds, 

And these its emeralds on the peacock's train; 

It hath its stations in the stars ; its slaves 
In lightning, wind, and rain. 

Out of the dark it wrought the heart of man, 
Out of dull shells the pheasant's pencilled neck ; 

Ever at toil, it brings to loveliness 
All ancient wrath and wreck. 

The gray eggs in the golden sun-bird's nest 
Its treasures are, the bees' six-sided cell 

Its honey-pot ; the ant wots of its ways, 
The white doves know them well. 

It spreadeth forth for flight the eagle's wings 
What time she beareth home her prey ; it sends 

The she-wolf to her cubs ; for unloved things 
It findeth food and friends. 

It is not marred nor stayed in any use, 

All liketh it ; the sweet white milk it brings 

To mothers' breasts ; it brings the white drops, too, 
Wherewith the young snake stings. 



BOOK THE EIGHTH, 213 

The ordered music of the marching orbs 
It makes in viewless canopy of sky; 

In deep abyss of earth it hides up gold, 
Sards, sapphires, lazuli. 

Ever and ever fetching secrets forth. 
It sitteth in the green of forest-glades 

NursiniT stranp:e seedlino^s at the cedar's root. 
Devising leaves, blooms, blades. 

It slayeth and it saveth, nowise moved 
Except unto the working out of doom ; 

Its threads are Love and Life ; and Death and Pain 
The shuttles of its loom. 

It maketh and unmaketh, mending all ; 

What it hath wrought is better than had been ; 
Slow grows the splendid pattern that it plans 

Its wistful hands between. 

This is its work upon the things ye see : 

The unseen things are more ; men^s hearts and 
minds, 

The thoughts of peoples and their ways and wills. 
Those, too, the great Law binds. 



2 14 ^^^^^ LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Unseen it helpeth ye with faithful hands, 

Unheard it speaketh stronger than the storm. 

Pity and Love are man's because long stress 
Moulded bhnd mass to form. 

It will not be contemned of any one ; 

Who thwarts it loses, and who serves it gains ; 
The hidden good it pays with peace and bliss. 

The hidden ill with pains. 

It seeth everywhere and marketh all : 

Do right — it recompenseth ! do one wrong — 

The equal retribution must be made. 
Though Dharma tarry long. 

It knows not wrath nor pardon ; utter-true 

Its measures mete, its faultless balance weighs 

Times are as naught, to-morrow it will judge, 
Or after many days. 

By this the slayer's knife did stab himself; 

The unjust judge hath lost his own defender ; 
The false tongue dooms its lie ; the creeping thief 

And spoiler rob, to render. 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 21 S 

Such is the Law which moves to righteousness, 
Which none at last can turn aside or stay ; 

The heart of it is Love, the end of it 

Ls Peace and Consummation sweet. Obey ! 



The Books say well, my Brothers I each man's hfe 
The outcome of his former Hving is : 

The bygone wrongs bring forth sorrows and woes, 
The bygone right breeds bhss. 

That which ye sow ye reap. See yonder fields I 
The sesamum was sesamum. the corn 

Was corn. The Silence and the Darkness knew! 
So is a man's fate born. 

He Cometh, reaper of the things he sowed, 
Sesamum, corn, so much cast in past birth ; 

And so much weed and poison-stuff, which mar 
Him and the aching earth. 

If he shall labor rightly, rooting these. 

And planting wholesome seedlings where they 



2i6 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Fruitful and fair and clean the ground shall be, 
And rich the harvest due. 

If he who liveth, learning whence woe springs, 

Endureth patiently, striving to pay 
His utmost debt for ancient evils done 

In Love and Truth alway ; 

If making none to lack, he thoroughly purge 
The lie and lust of self forth from his blood ; 

Suffering all meekly, rendering for offence 
Nothing but grace and good ; 

If he shall day by day dwell merciful, 

Holy and just and kind and true ; and rend 

Desire from where it chngs with bleeding roots, 
Till love of life have end : 

He — dying — leaveth as the sum of him 

A life-count closed, whose ills are dead and quit, 

Whose good is quick and mighty, far and near. 
So that fruits follow it- 

No need hath such to live as ye name life ; 
That which began in him when he began 



BOOK THE EIGHTH, 21/ 

Is finished : he hath wrought the purpose through 
Of what did make him Man. 

Never shall yearnings torture him, nor sins 
Stain him, nor ache of earthly joys and woes 

Invade his safe eternal peace ; nor deaths 
And lives recur. He goes 

Unto NirvAna. He is one with Life, 

Yet lives not. He is blest, ceasing to be. 

Om, mani padme, om ! the Dewdrop slips 
Into the shining sea ! 



This is the doctrine of the Karma. Learn ! 

Only when all the dross of sin is quit, 
Only when life dies like a white flame spent 

Death dies along with it. 

Say not "I am,"* "I was,'"" or "I shall be,'- 
Think not ye pass from house to house of flesh 

Like travellers who remember and forget, 
Ill-lodged or well-lodged. Fresh 



2 I 8 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Issues upon the Universe that sum 

Which is the lattermost of lives. It makes 

Its habitation as the worm spins silk 
And dwells therein. It takes 

Function and substance as the snake's ^gg hatched 
Takes scale and fang ; as feathered reed-seeds fly 

O'er rock and loam and sand, until they find 
Their marsh and multiply. 

Also It issues forth to help or hurt. 

When Death the bitter murderer doth smite, 
Red roams the unpurged fragment of him, driven 

On winds of plague and blight. 

But when the mild and just die, sweet airs breathe ; 

The world grows richer, as if desert-stream 
Should sink aw^ay to sparkle up again 

Purer, with broader gleam ; 

So merit won winneth the happier age 
Which by demerit halteth short of end ; 

Yet must this Law of Love reign King of all 
Before the Kalpas end. 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 219 

What lets ? — Brothers ! the Darkness lets ! which 
breeds 

Ignorance, mazed whereby ye take these shows 
For true, and thirst to have, and, having, cling 

To lusts which work you woes. 

Ye that will tread the Middle Road, whose course 
Bright Reason traces and soft Quiet smoothes ; 

Ye who will take the high Nirvana-way, 
List the Four Noble Truths. 

The First Truth is of Sorrow. Be not mocked ! 

Life which ye prize is long-drawn agony : 
Only its pains abide ; its pleasure are 

As birds which light and fly. 

Ache of the birth, ache of the helpless days, 
Ache of hot youth and ache of manhood's prime ; 

Ache of the chill gray years and choking death. 
These fill your piteous time. 

Sweet is fond Love, but funeral-flames must kiss 
The breasts which pillow and the lips which 
cling ; 



220 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Gallant is warlike Might, but vultures pick 
The joints of chief and King. 

Beauteous is Earth, but all its forest-broods 
Plot mutual slaughter, hungering to live ; 

Of sapphire are the skies, but when men cry 
Famished, no drops they give. 

Ask of the sick, the mourners, ask of him 
Who tottereth on his staff, lone and forlorn, 

' ' Liketh thee life ? '' — these say the babe is wise 
That weepeth, being born. 

The Second Truth is Soi^row^s Cause. What 
grief 

Springs of itself and springs not of Desire? 
Senses and things perceived mingle and light 

Passion's quick spark of iire : 

So flameth Trishna, lust and thirst of things. 

Eager ye cleave to shadow^s, dote on dreams ; 
A false Self in the midst ye plant, and make 

A world around which seems : 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 221 

Blind to the heights beyond, deaf to the sound 
Of sweet airs breathed from far past Indra's 
sky ; 

Dumb to the summons of the true Hfe kept 
For him who false puts by. 

So grow tlie strifes and lusts which make earth's 
war, 
So grieve poor cheated hearts and flow salt 
tears ; 
So wax the passions, envies, angers, hates; 
So years chase blood-stained years 

With wild red feet. So, where the grain should 
grow. 

Spreads the bir^n-weed with its evil root 
And poisonous blossoms ; hardly good seeds find 

Soil where to fall and shoot ; 

And, drugged with poisonous drink, the soul 
departs, 

And, fierce with thirst to drink. Karma returns ; 
Sense-struck again the sodden Self begins, 

And new deceits it earns. 



222 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

The Tliird is Sorrow's Ceasini^. This is peace 
To conquer love of self and lust of life, 

To tear deep-rooted passion from the breast, 
To still the inward strife ; 

For love to clasp Eternal Beauty close ; 

For glory to be Lord of self: for pleasure 
To live beyond the gods ; for countless wealth 

To lay up lasting treasure 

Of perfect service rendered, duties done 
In charity, soft speech, and stainless days: 

These riches shall not fade away in life. 
Nor any death dispraise. 

Then Sorrow ends, for Life and Death have ceased : 
How should lamps flicker when their oil is spent? 

The old sad count is clear, the new is clean ; 
Thus hath a man content. 

The Fourth Truth is The Way. It openeth wide, 
Plain for all feet to tread, easy and near. 

The Noble Eightfold Path ; it goeth straight 
To peace and refuge. Hear! 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 223 

Manifold tracks lead to 3^011 sister-peaks 

Around whose snows the gilded clouds are curled ; 

By steep or gentle slopes the cHmber comes 
Where breaks that other world. 

Strong limbs may dare the rugged road which storms, 
Soaring and perilous, the mountain's breast ; 

The weak must wind from slower ledge to ledge, 
With many a place of rest. 

So is the Eightfold Path which brings to peace ; 

By lower or by upper heights it goes. 
The firm soul hastes, the feeble tarries. All 

Will reach the sunlit snows. 

The First good level is Right Doctrine. Walk 
In fear of Dharma, shunning all offence ; 

In heed of Karma, which doth make man's fate ; 
In lordship over sense. 

The Second is Right Purpose. Have good-will 
To all that lives, letting unkindness die 

And greed and wrath ; so that your lives be made 
Like soft airs passing by. 



2 24 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

The Third is Right Discourse. Govern the Hps 
As they were palace-doors, the King within ; 

Tranquil and fair and courteous be all words 
Which from that presence win. 

Tlie Fourth is Right Behavior. Let each act 
Assoil a fault or help a merit grow : 

Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads 
Let love through good deeds show. 

Four higher roadways be. Only those feet 

May tread them which have done with earthly 
things. 

Right Purity, Right Thought, Right Loueliness, 
Right Rapture. Spread no wings 

For Sunward flight, thou soul with unplumed vans ! 

Sweet is the lower air, and safe and known 
The homely levels ; only strong ones leave 

The nest each makes his own. 

Dear is the love, I know, of Wife and Child ; 

Pleasant the friends and pastimes of your years ; 
Fruitful of good Life's gentle charities ; 

Firm-set, though false, its fears. 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 225 



Live — ye who must — such lives as Hve on these ; 

Make golden stair- ways of your weakness ; rise 
Bv daily sojourn with those phantasies 

To lovelier verities 



So shall ye pass to clearer heights and find 
Easier ascents and lighter loads of sins, 

And larger will to burst the bonds of sense, 
Enterinsf the Path. Who wins 



■'^ 



To such commencement hath the First Stage 
touched, 

He knows tli^ Noble Truths, the Eiglitfold Road : 
By few or many steps such shall attain 

NirvAna's blest abode. 

Who standeth at the Second Stage, made free 
From doubts, delusions, and the inward strife. 

Lord of all lusts, quit of the priests and books. 
Shall live but one more life. 

Yet onward lies the Third Stage : purged and pure 
Hath grown the stately spirit here, hath risen 

To love all living things in perfect peace. 
His life at end, life's prison 



226 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

Is broken. Nay, there are who surely pass 

Living and visible to utmost goal 
By Fotn^th Stage of the Holy ones — the Buddhs — 

And they of stainless soul. 

Lo ! like fierce foes slain by some warrior, 
Ten sins along these Stages lie in dust, 

The Love of Self, False Faith, and Doubt are three, 
Two more Hatred and Lust. 

Who of these Five is conqueror hath trod 
Three stages out of Four : yet there abide 

The Love of Life on earth, Desire for Heaven, 
Self- Praise, Error, and Pride. 

As one who stands on yonder snowy horn 

Having naught o'er him but the boundless blue. 

So, these sins being slain, the man is come 
NirvIna's verge unto. 

Him the Gods envy from their lower seats ; 

Him the Three Worlds in ruin should not shake ; 
All life is lived for him, all deaths are dead ; 

Karma will no more make 



BOOK THE EIGHTH. 22/ 

New houses. Seeking nothing, he gains all; 

Foregoing self, the Universe grows " I : " 
If any teach NIRVANA is to cease, 

Say unto such they lie. 

If any teach NIRVANA is to live, 

Say unto such they err ; not knowing this 

Nor what light shines be3'ond their broken lamps, 
Nor lifeless, timeless, bliss. 

Enter the path ! There is no grief like Hate ! 

No pains like passion, no deceit like sense ! 
Enter the path ! far hath he gone whose foot 

Treads down one fond offence. 

Enter the Path ! There spring the healing 
streams 
Quenching all thirst I there bloom th' immortal 
flowers 
Carpeting all the way with joy ! there throng 
Swiftest and sweetest hours ! 

More is the treasure of the Law than gems ; 
Sweeter than comb its sweetness ; its delights 



22 8 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

Delightful past compare. Thereby to live 
Hear the Five Rules aright : — 

Kill not — for Pity's sake — and lest ye slay 
The meanest thing upon its upward way. 

Give freely and receive, but take from none 
By greed, or force or fraud, what is his own. 

Bear not false witness, slander not, nor lie; 
Truth is the speech of inward purity. 

Shun drugs and drinks which work the wit abuse 
Clear minds, clean bodies, need no Soma juice. 

Touch not thy neighbor's wife, neither commit 
Sins of the flesh unlawful and unfit. 



These words the Master spake of duties due 
To father, mother, children, fellows, friends ; 
Teaching how such as may not swiftly break 
The clinging chains of sense — whose feet are 
weak 



BOOK THE EIGHTH, 229 

To tread the higher road — should order so 
This life of flesh that all their hither days 
Pass blameless in discharge of charities 
And first true footfalls in the Eightfold Path ; 
Living pure, reverent, patient, pitiful ; 
Loving all things which live even as themselves ; 
Because what falls for ill is fruit of ill 
Wrought in the past, and what falls well of good ; 
And that by howsomuch the householder 
Purgeth himself of self and helps the world, 
By so much happier comes he to next stage, 
In so much bettered being. This he spake ; 
As also long before, when our Lord walked 
By Rajagriha in the bamboo-grove : 
For on a dawn he walked there and beheld 
The householder Singala, newdy bathed, 
Bowing himself with bare head to the earth, 
To Heaven, and all four quarters ; while he threw 
Rice, red and white, from both hands. "Where- 
fore thus 
Bowest thou, Brother?" said the Lord; and he, 
*' It is the wav. Great Sir! our fathers tauofht 
At every dawn, before the toil begins, 
To hold off evil from the sky above 



230 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 

And earth beneath, and all the winds which blow." 

Then the World-honored spake : — " Scatter not rice, 

But offer loving thoughts and acts to all : 

To parents as the East, where rises light ; 

To teachers as the South, whence rich gifts come ; 

To wife and children as the West, where gleam 

Colors of love and calm, and all days end ; 

To friends and kinsmen and all men as North ; 

To humblest living things beneath, to Saints 

And Angels and the blessed Dead above : 

So shall all evil be shut off, and so 

The six main quarters will be safely kept." 

But to his own, Them of the yellow robe — 
Those who, as wakened eagles, soar with scorn 
From life's low vale, and wing towards the Sun — 
To these he taught the Ten Observances 
The Dasa-Sil, and how a mendicant 
Must know the Three Doors and the Triple 

Thoitghts ; 
The Sixfold States of niifid ; the Fivefold Powers ; 
The Fig/it High Gates of Purity ; the Modes 
Of Under standifig ,* Iddhi ; Upekshd ; 
The Five Great Meditations, which are food 



BOOK THE EIGHTH, 23 I 

Sweeter than Amrit for the holy soul ; 

The Jhdnas and the Three Chief Refuges. 

Also he taught his Own how they should dwell ; 

How live, free from the snares of love and wealth ; 

What eat and drink and carry — three plain 

cloths, — 
Yellow, of stitched stuff, worn with shoulder 

bare — 
A girdle, almsbowl, strainer. Thus he laid 
The great foundations of our Sangha well. 
That noble Order of the Yellow Robe 
Which to this day standeth to help the World. 

So all that night he spake, teaching the Law ; 
And on no eyes fell sleep — for they who heard 
Rejoiced with tireless joy. Also the King, 
When this was finished, rose upon his throne 
And with bared feet bowed low before his Son 
Kissing his hem: and said: — *' Take me, O 

Son! 
Lowest and least of all thy Company.'' 
And sweet Yasodhara, all happy now, — 
Cried : — " Give to Rahula — thou Blessed One I 
The Treasure of the Kingdom of thy Word 



2 32 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, 

For his inheritance.'' Thus passed these Three 
Into the Path. 



Here endeth what I write 
Who love the r^Iaster for his love of us. 
A little knowing, little have I told 
Touching the Teacher and the Ways of Peace. 
Forty-five rains thereafter showed he those 
In many lands and many tongues, and gave 
Our Asia Light, that still is beautiful, 
Conquering the world with spirit of strong grace, 
All which is written in the holy Books, 
And where he passed, and what proud Emperors 
Carved his sweet words upon the rocks and caves. 
And how — in fulness of the times — it fell 
The Buddha died, the o^reat Tathao:ato, 
Even as a man 'mongst men, fulfilling all : 
And how a thousand thousand lakhs since then 
Have trod the Path which leads whither he went 
Unto NirvIna, where the Silence lives. 



>>d4< 



BOOK THE EIGHTH, 233 

Ah I Blessed Lord ! Oh, High Deliverer ! 
Forgive this feeble script, which doth thee 

WRONG, 

Measuring with little wit thy lofty Love. 
Ah I Lover ! Brother ! Guide ! Lamp of the 

Law ! 
i take my refuge in thy name and thee ! 

I TAKE MY REFUGE IN THY LaW OF GoOD I 
I TAKE MY REFUGE IN THY OrDER ! OM I 

The Dew is on the Lotus I — Rise, Great 

Sun : 
And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. 
Om mani padme hum, the Sunrise comes ! 
The Dewdrop slips into the shining Sea ! 



the end. 



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Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: March 2009 



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